By Guillaume Musso
Elle est son passé...
... il est son avenir.
Emma vit à ny. À 32 ans, elle proceed de chercher l’homme de sa vie.
Matthew habite à Boston. Il a perdu sa femme dans un negative twist of fate et élève seul sa fille de quatre ans.
Ils font connaissance grâce à web et bientôt, leurs échanges de mails les laissent penser qu’ils ont enfin droit au bonheur. Désireux de se rencontrer, ils se donnent rendez-vous dans un petit eating place italien de Manhattan.
Le même jour à l. a. même heure, ils poussent chacun à leur journey los angeles porte du eating place. Ils sont conduits à l. a. même desk et pourtant… ils ne se croiseront jamais.
Jeu de mensonges ? Fantasme de l’un ? Manipulation de l’autre ? Victimes d’une réalité qui les dépasse, Matthew et Emma vont rapidement se rendre compte qu’il ne s’agit pas d’un basic rendez-vous manqué…
Une aventure aussi mystérieuse que bouleversante.
Une intrigue virtuose aux frontières du réel.
Un suspense diabolique, extreme et captivant.
« Les personnages de Guillaume Musso sont dotés d’une fragilité extrêmement touchante et d’une humanité qui nous ficelle viscéralement à eux. Chez Musso, l’émotion a des accents majeurs. » Le Figaro journal
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Extra resources for Demain
See the huge flakes drifting against the windowpanes. It must be the doves, surely. They finally make up their minds to come down, the little dears; they are covering the waters and the roofs with a thick layer of feathers; they are fluttering at every window. What an invasion! Let's hope they are bringing good news. -and not only the elect. Possessions and hardships will be shared and you, for example, from today on you will sleep every night on the ground for me. The whole shooting match, eh?
Well, here's the stroke of genius.  I discovered that while waiting for the masters with their rods, we should, like Copernicus, reverse the reasoning to win out. Inasmuch as one couldn't condemn others without immediately judging oneself, one had to overwhelm oneself to have the right to judge others. Inasmuch as every judge some day ends up as a penitent, one had to travel the road in the opposite direction and practice the profession of penitent to be able to end up as a judge. You follow me?
But decidedly I am tired and no longer want to think of that period. Let's just say that I closed the circle the day I drank the water of a dying comrade. No, no, it wasn't Du Guesclin; he was already dead, I believe, for he stinted himself too much. Besides, had he been there, out of love for him I'd have resisted longer, for I loved him-yes,  I loved him, or so it seems to me. But I drank the water, that's certain, while convincing myself that the others needed me more than this fellow who was going to die anyway and that I had a duty to keep myself alive for them.