Mr and Mrs Nobody

Episode 2

Sitting in my kitchen, a glass of beer in my hand, I'm currently puzzled. But that's nothing new, actually it's been two days that I've been puzzled.

On the back of my chair in front of me lays Fernanda's leather jacket, the mysterious woman that saved my life yesterday. While we were casually drinking a little coffee in a tea-room, chatting pleasantly, submachine shotguns made the display window burst, coming straight at us.

At that very moment, this ravishingly beautiful woman took out a Glock and shoot back at them. She took us out of there (well, ok, I followed her because I was running scared) and before disappearing she told me to forget everything I had seen.

But how could I forget such a face? I fell in love at first sight with her and I don't think I can forget her so easily –the submachine episode put aside. I went to my office yesterday, staggering, still in shock, and couldn't talk about this story to anyone. People did notice I had dust all over the front of my suit jacket and big stains of coffee everywhere because I had crawled behind Fernanda, but I didn't say a word about it.

And there's the jacket...

I unconsciously stretch out my hand to lightly touch the leather of the worn outfit. I didn't really realize what I was doing at that moment, when I picked it up in the tea-room. Even though the bullets were whistling above our heads, I grabbed this garment under some weird impulse and took it with me. I think I told myself: "She's attached to it, she might need it." Then I forgot about it. It was only back at work, when my colleagues made fun of my appearance and asked me whose jacket it was that I noticed I was still holding it in my hands.

Who was this mysterious woman? Will I see her again one day? I look at the leather and sigh. I have little hopes, and it saddens me. I fell madly and fondly in love with her, I want to know more about who she is, her life, her passions... But that's probably impossible that our paths will cross again once, she seems as intangible as smoke!

Another detail worries me: I have been the (involuntary) witness of a shooting in a public place, and the police are investigating that. There had been numerous injuries, some fatal, and I ran away. I don't know if they will notice I was there, but they might come to ask me some questions to know why I didn't show myself after the attack to give my testimony.... Would I dare talk about Fernanda? Most likely not. Deep down, even if she didn't do anything reprehensible, she might be a suspect in their eyes : she's still wandering around in broad day light with a gun! This girl has certainly more secrets than my poor, unimaginative brain can conceive.

(Is she some sort of spy? Is she part of the mafia?)

I sigh and finish my beer, then I stand up to stretch. These thoughts don't lead me anywhere, I'm going round and round in circles! Enough. Ok, fine. I take my glass and put it down in the sink, then climb up the stairs to go to sleep.

Upstairs, I turn on the light in the corridor and go in my bathroom, which is pitch black. I take my toothbrush, squeeze a layer of toothpaste on it (not too thick, or the taste is too strong in my mouth!) and I straighten up. I freeze. Through the reflection of the mirror, I can see a silhouette standing near the door frame.

I blink, but I don't move, too surprised to react. The person behind me stays still, pointing a piece right at my back.

A light sound, like the cork of a champagne bottle popping out, reaches my ear. The figure sways, then falls on its' side with a loud thud.

I blink. (Uh? What just happened?)

I turn in slow motion, eyebrows risen. No, I haven't been dreaming, there is well and truly a man on the floor of my corridor. Toothbrush still in hand, I get closer with a (little) step to look at him and identify him.