The Desk Drawer

Vincent had known before he could read. You had to pull it straight out three centimeters, lift it almost imperceptibly, then continue. His father did it without thinking, the way you step around a stair in the house where you grew up. As a child, Vincent had taken the defect for one of the furniture’s rules. Later, when he understood that a carpenter could have fixed it in an hour, he had thought it very like Marc to prefer knowing the precise resistance to removing it.

There are twelve names in Séverac’s drawer. Since his death, they have been dying one by one.