Friday night: it’s done, Laure has packed up all her belongings in boxes. Tomorrow she’s shifting house, going to live with François. But tonight, right now, she leaves the empty apartment where she’s never felt at home, heading for dinner at Marie and Bernard’s place.
She gets caught up in an enormous traffic jam. That’s right, she’d forgotten about the public transportation strike.
But Laure couldn’t care less, for tonight, in her car, she really feels right at home.
It’s warm, she listens to music, nothing will happen to her.
And outside, it’s winter. People on foot dash to get home, going every which way, traffic is blocked, horns blow, everybody is tense, agitated.
Everybody except a man in a leather jacket, standing still, just a little way up ahead.