as if he were talking to someone he already knew.
I couldn’t find the words to answer. How do you explain to a stranger that your own daughter has just left you there, like dumping a bag of garbage?
He looked around him, at the gas station, the parking lot, the cars coming and going.
“Where is your car?” he asked, more quietly.
— Gone, I murmured.
And I started crying again.
Without another word, he went into the station shop. I saw him talking to the cashier, pointing his finger at me. Then he came back with a large bottle of chilled water and a small bag of ice.
— First, let’s get this sun to go down a bit, okay?
He unscrewed the bottle, gave me a few sips, then gently placed the ice cubes, wrapped in a paper towel, on the back of my neck.
— What is your name, madam?
— Hélène.
