Adèle is afraid of dying. Her fear is intense: it grips her by the throat and stops all thought. So she starts palpating her belly, her breasts, the back of her neck, finding swellings that are, she feels sure, the signs of a fast-moving and horribly painful cancer. She vows to stop smoking. This resolution lasts an hour, an afternoon, a day. She throws away all her cigarettes, buys packets of chewing gum. She runs for hours around the rotunda in the Parc Monceau. Then she decides that it’s not worth living while fighting against such a desperate desire, such an absolute need. That she would
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