The phone from one of my silence computer mates goes loudly. He is on the speaker. A male voice says, “Okay, that’s where it comes.” Through the coupé, a 06 number, slowly listed, blows per two digits. The woman repeats the figures and at the end she asks the number to repeat again. Once again it blares the coupé. If she wants to hang up, the man urges her: “This song is only for you, huh, and for no one else!” “Yes, I know,” she says, and hangs up.
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