Then his face closed. * "I have to tell you something. A truth that I have been keeping quiet about for twenty years. She joked: "Do you see, after all? * He doesn't smile. He took her hands and asked, "Do you remember the explosion? »*
He was there that day. As a teenager, he played with friends and gas, two houses away from her home. A spark had ignited everything. Everyone had run. Including him. He had learned her first name in the newspaper, carried this guilt for twenty years — and then had admitted it, without ever daring to say it.
