His look. The way he behaves. And then this characteristic mark, in the shape of a small crescent, under his left ear.
Thirty-one years ago, his daughter disappeared from his life with her mother. Michel had never given up hope of finding her. This distinctive sign on the skin, he would have recognized it anywhere — he was the one who kissed her tenderly every evening, when his little one was barely two years old. His hands tremble as he presents his documents.
Daring to break the silence
Clara carries out her check with all the seriousness for which she is known. Michel, for his part, makes a resolution: he cannot be silent.
Il parle. Le jouet auquel elle ne lâchait jamais. La petite formule qu’elle utilisait pour dire bonne nuit. La chute mémorable du tricycle dans le jardin. Des anecdotes d’une précision troublante, qu’un étranger n’aurait jamais pu connaître. Clara l’écoute, tiraillée entre ses obligations professionnelles et un malaise qu’elle n’arrive pas encore à nommer.
