The wind is raw this morning. It has snowed a thin layer, but the sky is grey, the wind remains horizontal as if it would have liked to be a storm. Despite my winter clothes, my sheep hat, I’m cold, freezing.
And in front of me, three young people, two of whom are adequately dressed. But the one in the center doesn’t seem to be cold. Small open leather jacket, a simple t-shirt, smiling face, nothing shivering in him. He doesn’t walk in a hurry, chats nicely with his girlfriend whom he kisses from time to time.
I follow them to the subway. The boy does not accelerate the pace, even allows himself to tie a shoe, no glove. I’m not sure he’s wearing underwear. He would have been naked that he certainly wouldn’t have seen the difference. Is he on drugs or what? Or is it my prostate playing tricks on me? I’m cold for him! I feel like I’m becoming his mother and kicking his neck. Go get dressed, you’ll catch a cold!
And he probably answers me, haggard: “Huh? »