Ludovic tugged his sleeve to his cheek and pawed clumsily at his tears. Crying is supposedly a chemically proven remedy for the brain, a way of releasing grief. For him though, it seemed more like plunge, fathomless in depth. Depraved heartbreak fueled itself into spiraling hopelessness. His tragedy, what happened to his family, had fractured the bolt controlling his actions. Vic had tried to go out, but found himself bawling in the bathroom of his favourite coffee shop. Chewing the walls of his mouth provided a focus to divert the misery inwards, he was able to escape that situation. Since then, every night was a pizza night. The delivery lady was growing fond of the nightly routine!

Six nights later and the same delivery girl was climbing the steps of Ludovic's city apartment block, she was nattering to herself about how incredibly unprofessional it would be to say something. But all things considered, she wanted to say something. Vic's neighbours had clued her in a couple of nights earlier and he she could see he was lost at sea. Maybe she could be the anchor?

Vic opened the door and Adélaïde said, "Liberté, égalité, fraternité!" followed by a rosy flush of embarrassment. It was cheesy. No, worse, it was crass and insensitive. She instantly regretted her words. Were they empty? Would he be offended? Ludovic was confused at first, then his lip lowered and his were swollen with sorrow. He sucked in his lower lip, bit it and whimpered.

"Merci. Merci. Merci. Merci. Merci."

He repeated the word obsessively, more times than he would remember.