I'm six years old, and my name is Nicolas. I live with my parents and my little sister, Annie. We have a lovely home in a Parisian suburb.

But she was laughing. I looked down at the bouquet. The flowers were all drooping to one side. The paper was torn. The ribbon had come undone. And the rose we’d picked up off the pavement — I’d put it back in upside down, so the head was hanging sadly, like a tired soldier.

Back to Top