Il est trop tard (the narrative) — 50

The last and final moment is yours, that agony is your triumph! — Ballad of Sacco & Vanzetti, St├ęphane Pompougnac

When Aimee finished showering, Thomas had prepared some tea. She gratefully picked up the warm cup and curled up on the couch. Noir immediately jumped up and curled up next to her. Thomas watched her and smiled, sipping on his own cup of tea, a towel wrapped over his shoulders. Aimee smiled back, but then her expression became somber.

“Would now be a good time to get back to that discussion on what we’re doing?” she said cautiously.

Their eyes met, and both knew they didn’t really want to talk about it, except perhaps it’s best if they did. Thomas took a gulp of tea. Aimee slowly sipped on hers. The cat had fallen asleep.

“Can I shower first?” he finally asked.

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