A strong wind is blowing, and a whirlwind of snowflakes dances around the trees. My breath dews the window and makes the image of the garden even more blurred.
Madelon's voice sounds sharp and sour. “I wonder what it will be like to sleep in a normal bed again. I'm so used to my futon. A futon is an exceptional experience. Once you're used to that…”
I hear her sucking on an oyster and rinsing her mouth with wine. When I look around, she holds her hand in front of her with spread fingers and looks at her nails.
Steeve turns up the music, and Joff enters with a new bottle of red wine. They clear the dining table and start dancing on it. It looks as if they are fighting and ready to fly at each other’s throats any minute. At times, it's as if everything multiplies, and I see it tenfold. Or I see their movements in fragments, like the individual shots of a piece of film.
Steeve sits next to me and asks if everything is okay. His face looks like a cubist painting. He seems to be ten meters away from me.
“I don't feel well,” I say, with my hand on my throat. “Everything is so weird.”
“I warned you when you took that second piece of cake.”
“I know. But then I didn't feel a thing.”
“I told you that you’d only feel the full effect after 45 minutes.”
“Is Madelon on about her futon? Did she also explain why it's better to fuck in a futon than in a regular bed?”
Steeve smiles politely and gives me a glass of water.
Just when I want to say something, he interrupts my thoughts: “You know what your problem with Madelon is? She's your other half.”
“My other half?”
“She represents something you miss. Something you’re afraid of, but that still exerts an irresistible attraction to you. I had the same with my brother. I hated him because he was more successful than me in everything. Until I started acting more like him.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “Honestly, she's getting even more on my nerves now, after what you said.”

It is as if I have lost consciousness, and hours or days have passed. My head feels like a piece of styrofoam. Where is everyone? I get up and stumble into the hallway, randomly opening a door. Madelon and Steeve. In bed together. Their red cheeks, the smell of their intimacy that still hangs in the room. Madelon with loose hair and a fully relaxed face. I've never seen her like this. She looks so wild, so animal-like. Lying on her side, resting on her elbow, looking at me with a lustful grin. My vision gets blurry, and I need to cling to the doorposts to remain standing.

I walk into the hallway, bumping from one wall to another, like a ball in a pinball machine. Then I enter the living room. Joff is against the sofa with his head down. I try to wake him up, but I only get a deep growling in response.
“Go to your bedroom,” I say. “Go and see. Your wife is cheating on you.”
Drunk grumbling and spinning eyes.
“Go and see,” I repeat. “She looks totally different, like a wild animal.” The words continue to echo through my head as I stumble out of the room.

I open the front door. The icy air wrinkles my skin. With my elbows in front of me, I stumble outside. Every breath of air wrings my throat shut. Soon my hands are so numb that they seem to burn. I reach the end of the garden, go into the forest. Up to my knees in the snow. My shoes are soaked, and the cold is gnawing at my toes.
I walk on. Like in Matala that night, when I went swimming alone. Don't go past the buoys. Otherwise, the current will drag you into the open sea. But I wanted to go into the open sea. Drown. And now... now I want to run away. Run and keep running, until I become a tiny black spot in an immense snowy plain and disappear into nothingness.

The window overlooks a snowy field. My hands look old. Bluish and braided with ugly veins. There is a needle in my wrist.
A man in a white coat walks around my bed. “How do you feel?”
My head weighs a ton. “Not so great. What happened?”
“Nothing serious. You have a head injury and a slight concussion. So, if you suffer from migraines, dizziness... all completely normal, no need to worry about that.”
He is constantly smiling, as if he enjoys telling me all this.
“What am I doing here?” I ask. “I was with friends in a country house near Vignolles.”
“I know. Your friends called the police. The police found you.”
“Police?” My words echo, and I feel my chest swell. “And my friends?”
“They returned to Belgium.” He remains silent for a moment and then looks at me seriously. “The police found you two kilometres from your place of residence. You were lying unconscious in a ravine. Do you have any memory of what exactly happened?”
“No. Nothing.”
He nods and peeks at his clipboard. And then he looks at me, again with that annoying smile. “You may also suffer from hallucinations. Don't worry, that's the concussion. If you don't feel well, feel free to call the nurse.”

The conversation has worn me out, and I soon fall asleep.
I dream of Madelon. We’re in the woods. She walks towards me with her mouth open. No, dear! Please don’t! When she grabs my arm, I slap her face. She looks at me dumbfounded, her hand over the red spot on her cheek.
I wake up. The look in her eyes. How bewildered, how totally shocked she stared at me. Did I really do that? Did I really hit her? And then? What happened next?
I feel a migraine coming up and call the nurse, who gives me a painkiller.
“There is a visitor for you,” she says.

It's Madelon. She stretches out her arms at me.
I keep my hands in front of my face and say I'm sorry.
“Don't worry,” she laughs. “A wild night. Such things happen. The most important thing is that you're okay.”
“Still, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”
“What could you do? It's true, by the way, what Steeve said.” As she pronounces the words, she frowns and her voice sounds more and more severe. “I'm your other half. You'll have to learn and live with it, dear.”
The door opens, and the nurse comes in. She walks right through Madelon. Is the headache better? Who was I talking to? Did I sleep? If I want to sleep, I just have to tip the wink.
I nod mechanically. As she steps through the door, she casts a suspicious look over her shoulder, stops for a few seconds and then disappears.
Madelon takes my hand and pulls me towards the window. Together, we look outside, hand in hand. It's snowing again. Flakes like white butterflies, to and fro. The window seems to be getting bigger and bigger and floating into the garden. We look at each other for a moment, and then we let our eyes move along with the swirling flakes, clinging our fingers tighter and warming each other’s hands.