Clause 3 — Residence. The Wife shall reside at the Husband's home, 38, rue de la Faisanderie, Paris 16e, in a bedroom of her own to which she alone holds the key. She shall abide by the customs of the house.
Saturday, October 3, 10:12 a.m. The taxi took thirty-four minutes from the rue de l'Ourcq: eleven point two kilometers, forty-one euros. I have two suitcases, the machine in its case, Sac in his carrier and a box of forty-three green notebooks that weighs seven point four kilos. I'm keeping the studio. Six hundred and ninety euros in rent, debited on the 5th. Nobody asked me to.
The elevator at number 38 has a folding grille and takes fifty-one seconds to climb seven floors. Julien Kessler opens the door himself. Three hundred and twelve square meters, eleven windows onto the street, a fourteen-meter corridor with his bedroom at one end and mine at the other. He carries the box of notebooks without asking what's in it.
My bedroom is twenty-two square meters. Three more than my studio. A window onto the courtyard, a bed nobody has ever unmade, a brass key in the lock, on the inside. In the corner, by the radiator, a water bowl and a litter tray, both new, the price stickers still on the bottom.