The Renault slowed as it turned onto Rue des Lilas.
The streetlamps along the narrow Lyon street made it even more beautiful.
Inside the car, Étienne Moreau exhaled and closed his eyes briefly.
A heavy feeling one have when crossing a line between two worlds the world of chambers and borders and nations, and the world where tasty soup and childhood still ring in corners.
As the car came to a stop, the front door swung open before the driver could even step out.
His brother, now nearly thirteen, taller, leaner, but with the same reckless speed in his limbs.
He didn't hesitate.
The door was barely open before he yanked it wider.
"Étienne!"
Moreau stepped out, the cold Lyon air biting through his coat. "You've grown another kilometer," he said with a laugh, bracing himself as the boy wrapped him in a full-bodied hug that nearly lifted him off the ground.
"You missed Christmas," the boy huffed, punching his shoulder lightly. "You promised last year."
