14When Jacques Legrand left the hospital that evening in late November, the sky had taken on a blue purplish colour and the cold stung his hands and face.
As he walked to the parking lot, he tightened the scarf around his neck and pulled his hat lower on his head, covering his ears well. He couldn't wait to get home, to the warmth, maybe lying on the couch reading the book he still hadn’t been able to finish.
He got in the car and drove home, irritated, as always, at the sight of the traffic in front of him along Quai de Gesvres; but there was no other way to get to l’Île de la Cité without taking a longer route. He turned onto the Pont Notre-Dame and as he went past the cathedral, saw some men decorating an imposing fir tree in front of the main portals, surrounded by a myriad of people
