Wearing only a silk nightgown, she sat on the floor leaning on the bed, holding a cigarette in her right hand and holding a glass of red wine in her left hand. The window was wide open, the golden curtains were blown by the wind, and a chill came over her. She didn't seem to feel the cold, she just stared out the window in a daze. Outside the window is Paris in twilight. The Eiffel Tower has not yet been lit up, so only its black outline can be seen here. There is a faint aroma in the air, which is unique to Paris in the evening.
When the day turned completely purple, she put out her cigarette and said in a hoarse voice, half singing and half saying: "How can the light of day know the depth of the night?" I knew she was talking to me, but I didn't know how to answer. I seemed to be standing in the middle of the world, but there was endless darkness around me; I could feel her body temperature, but not a trace of warmth. Where am I? Where is my home? Where is my future? I didn't know her story at that time, but I already knew that I was on a path without God. Escape, betrayal, lies; loneliness, confusion, fear, she made it all meaningful, and I saw myself in her.
She looked back at me curled up on the bed and read my name: "Gabriel."