Celine | English Version

o n e

It's dark, too dark for Jerome's liking.

Dark, dark, dark.

But he cannot feel scared, he knows it. For two reasons: Celine and Eulalie.

Outside, the thunderstorm rumbles endlessly, covering the stars and the moon with threatening clouds that'd impress any child. And, this, Jerome knows very well. It's exactly because of this he's holding Eulalie, shivering and on the verge of tears, against his pounding heart.

But he won't tell her that, of course. He refuses to let her see the frenzied panic that makes his heart beat.

No matter how much he tries to reassure her, the little girl refuses to let go of his white blouse. As if the certainty that her father could leave at anytime suffocated her more and more.

Is fear as contagious as the smiles painted on others' faces? Perhaps.

Or maybe, with a little bit of luck, Eulalie hasn't noticed anything of the storm taking place in her father's caramel eyes.

It has been about ten minutes that the fuses have blown. Jerome wants to replace them; he knows how to do it. He has to, otherwise running the risk to dive deep into another abyss of panic. Of madness, almost. Sadly, it is impossible.

Eulalie is terrified, and he has to be there for her as he had sworn to do when she was born, when the baby had finally been granted a brief moment in the arms of loving parents.

"Daddy, I'm scared of the thunderstorm. I want Mom," the little girl weakly demands, snuggled up against him.

Celine.

Yes, Celine would know what to do...if only she were here. She wouldn't hesitate to take her family into her arms, murmuring promises of happiness as well as reassuring words to soothen her husband, and their daughter.

This is how the father and the daughter muffle their sobs, each absolutely wanting to keep the other from worries considered too heavy.