François Pignon:
My wife left me two years ago. That day, my life was shattered. I survived by making my models, but deep down, I'm still a wreck. I wish that on no one, not even your husband.
Christine Brochant:
Is he there?
François Pignon:
What?
Christine Brochant:
He's feeding you the lines of this moving drama?
François Pignon:
Mrs. Brochant, I swear it was my idea to call you. He fed me nothing.
Christine Brochant:
Is he beside you?
François Pignon:
No, madam, I'm in a phone booth.
Christine Brochant:
He doesn't love me. He loves no one.
François Pignon:
Mrs. Brochant, for two hours, I saw your husband try to find you. He even called Pascal Meneaux, who was in the arms of a woman who wasn't you.
Christine Brochant:
He called Meneaux?
François Pignon:
He did. You can't imagine what he did out of love for you. He made up with his best friend, dumped his girlfriend. He even braved a tax inspector! He tidied up his whole life, in an exemplary way. Now he's alone in his big apartment, mixing alcohol and pills. I'm worried about him. I know one can die of love, Mrs. Brochant.
Christine Brochant:
I'll think it over. Thanks for calling, Mr. Pignon.
François Pignon:
Don't mention it. Goodbye, Mrs. Brochant.
Christine Brochant:
Goodbye.
François Pignon:
[hanging up]
She'll call back.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:14
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