Astrological Signs of the People on Natalie’s Team

Chloé: Libra

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Jean-Pierre: Pisces

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Albert: Taurus

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Markus: Scorpio

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Marie: Virgo

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Benoît: Capricorn

Thirty-four

The next morning, she apologized to Chloé without going into detail. At the office, she was Chloé’s boss. She was a strong woman. She simply explained that, for the time being, she didn’t feel able to go out. “It’s too bad,” murmured her young colleague. That was all. They had to pass on to something else. After that exchange, Natalie stayed in the hallway for a moment. Then she went back to her office. All the files finally appeared to her under their real light: holding absolutely no interest.She had never completely withdrawn from the world of the senses. She had never really stopped being a woman, even during moments when she wanted to die. Maybe it was homage to François, or merely came from the idea that sometimes it’s enough to put on makeup to seem alive. He’d been dead for three years. Three years of frittering away a life lived in emptiness. They’d often suggested that she leave her memories behind. Maybe it was the best way to stop living in the past. She remembered the expression: leaving your memories behind. How do you give up a memory? She’d accepted the idea when it came to objects. She couldn’t tolerate having those he’d touched around her anymore. As a result, there wasn’t much left, except for a photo she’d put away in the big drawer of her desk. A photo that seemed lost. She looked at it often, as if she were persuading herself that their story had really existed. In the drawer, there was also a small mirror. She took it out to take a look at herself the way a man would if he were seeing her for the very first time. She got up, began walking back and forth in her office, her hands on her hips. Because of the carpeting, her spike heels made no noise. Carpeting can murder sensuality. Who could have possibly invented the wall-to-wall carpet? Thirty-five

Someone knocked. Discreetly, with two knuckles, not more. Natalie gave a start as if those last few seconds had made her believe she could be alone in the world. She said, “Come in,” and Markus entered. He was a fellow employee from Uppsala, a Swedish city that doesn’t interest many people. Even the inhabitants of Uppsala^f themselves are embarrassed; the name of their city sounds almost like an excuse. Sweden has the highest suicide rate in the world. One alternative to suicide is emigrating to France, something Markus must have thought of. Physically, he was rather unpleasant, which is not to say that he was ugly. His way of dressing was always a bit odd: you couldn’t tell if he’d salvaged his clothes from his grandfather, at an Emmaus shop, or at a hip secondhand store. All of it formed an ensemble that wasn’t very coordinated.“I came to see you about file 114,” he said.His appearance was weird enough; did he also have to come out with statements as foolish as that? Natalie had no desire to work today. It was the first time in a long stretch. She was feeling something resembling despair; would have almost been ready to go on vacation in Uppsala, in other words. She was staring at Markus, who wasn’t moving. He was looking at her in amazement. For him, she represented a certain kind of inaccessible woman, doubled by the fantasy that some people develop toward all superiors, or anyone in a position to hold sway over them. So she decided to walk toward him, slowly, very slowly. You’d almost have had the time to read a novel while she made her approach. She seemed not to want to stop, so much so that she found herself nose to nose with Markus, so close that their noses really did touch. The Swede had stopped breathing. What did she want? He didn’t have the time to formulate that question in his mind at greater length, because she’d begun to kiss him for all she was worth. It was a long, intense kiss, the intensely adolescent kind. Then suddenly she pulled away.“We’ll see about file 114 later.”She opened the door and suggested Markus leave. Which he did with difficulty. He was Armstrong on the moon. That kiss was one giant leap for mankind—for him. He stayed there at the door to her office for a moment, without moving. Natalie herself had already completely forgotten what had just happened. What she’d just done had no connection to the series of other actions in her life. This kiss was the expression of a sudden insurrection among her neurons, what could be called a gratuitous act. Thirty-six

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