The putrid smell of oil still lingered over the Breton coast, although it was significantly less intense than in the early days. Oil from the Salamanca continued to wash up on the beaches, covering everything and obliterating the efforts of hundreds of volunteers with each wave. Everyone was mobilized to clean the beaches. Armed with rakes, scrub brushes, and shovels, they waded through the nauseating black mixture, most equipped only with boots and thick gloves. The better equipped also wore oilskins. They all looked like slimy, toxic creatures.

Despite the days spent collecting the vile cargo, there was still much work to do. The volunteers were exhausted, but none had given up. On the contrary, as news spread inland, more people came to help, increasing their numbers. The question was what to do with all the contaminated sand, oil-covered seaweed, and the thousands of bird and fish carcasses. No one had a solution, so for the moment, they filled plastic bags and stored them in the old supermarket in Saint-Pabu. With the mayors of neighboring municipalities, Mrs. Le Gall was trying to devise an effective and environmentally friendly strategy for all this waste. So far, no satisfactory solution had emerged.

Pierre, in rubber boots and a yellow oilskin turned black up to his chest, bent down and gathered everything he had raked together with his now black and slippery rake. He poured it all into his small bucket, which was already full even though he had just emptied it. There was a lot of mixed sand, but it was inevitable. The oil, having taken on the texture of old caramel, made it impossible to separate the sand from the oil. Most of the contaminated sand would clean itself under the action of the waves.

From his position north of Saint-Pabu, he couldn't see the wreck. All the beaches in Finistère were polluted, and there was no doubt that oil would be found in other departments as well.

It's endless… he thought as he watched a wave crash and die a few meters from him. The seawater was still as black as the wet sand. A dead seagull rolled and stopped when the water receded, giving birth to a new wave. The poor creature had probably suffered in its last moments, struggling to free itself from the sticky mixture. Its feathers, now black and heavy, had prevented it from taking off again. Landing on the water's surface had sealed its fate.

Poor seagull. I've stopped counting how many I've picked up.

The birds were not the only victims. Fish, mussels, oysters. Everything was dead, and it would likely take decades for nature to recover from this disaster.

Naturally, a young girl with long blond hair and a red oilskin approached Pierre, carrying a rake in one hand and a bucket in the other. Their eyes didn't meet, but they couldn't ignore each other's presence. As she passed Pierre, Céline murmured a few words that made the former trader, covered in oil, blush slightly. He resisted looking at the young girl and moved forward to pick up the dead bird he had spotted. He grabbed it by the neck, lifted it, and placed it in his bucket. Despite the situation, a small smile formed on his lips. She enjoyed saying sweet words to him because she had discovered he was sensitive to them. Saying them made her feel good too, like savoring a spoonful of honey. Pierre never returned these sweet words, but this time he felt like playing a little trick on her. He turned and, as he passed the young girl, murmured a few words in return that made her tremble.

No one could see the expression on her face, everyone being very busy, but there was nothing else to see but pure happiness. It was the first time Pierre had said something so sweet to her. Her eyes widened in surprise and joy, and she turned to see only the broad back of the man she loved. She placed a hand on her chest, and despite her gloves and oilskin, she could feel her heart beating wildly. It felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. Her cheeks immediately turned as red as her oilskin.

It was the first time Pierre had said such tender words to someone other than his father or mother. The ultimate happiness would have been to hear "I love you" from him, but she knew it was still too soon. Their relationship was just beginning, and she knew Pierre had a complicated past. He had revealed his school bullying to her and explained that he had subsequently shut himself off for nearly fifteen years, half his life. It was significant! Pierre had once confessed that he had never had a girlfriend and that he had always kept his distance from women. He had known women, of course, but it was always for one night. He had never felt anything for these girls. For him, it was about relieving the stress accumulated at work and being less lonely for a moment. Not once had he recontacted one of his partners, as if he feared getting attached.

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For this type of relationship, if it could be called a relationship, dating apps were very convenient.

Without a word, Pierre emptied the contents of his bucket into a large plastic bag half-filled, and since it was not safe to overload them, the person in charge of removing the bag tied a knot before carrying it away on a cart. Naturally, he was not the only one making trips back and forth. About ten others were making the connection between the beach and the already crowded supermarket. There, a team organized the bags and pondered how to handle all this waste. Burying was not an option, as the pollution would be as catastrophic as it was currently. The soil and groundwater would be contaminated. The pollution would inevitably return to the sea but would also end up in plants and animals. The word disaster might not suffice to describe the consequences of such a decision.

The option of burning wasn't any better, as there was a serious risk of explosion and fire, not to mention the health risk from the smoke and ashes. The consequences would be disastrous here too. Everyone had been racking their brains over this problem since day one.

What started as a light rain suddenly turned into a violent downpour. It hit the volunteers with such force and suddenness that one might have thought God had torn open a cloud. All that water poured down on them with the force of a hammer on an anvil. The vast majority of the volunteers scattered to take shelter quickly, but others decided to stay put. This was not the case for Pierre and Céline.

Taking advantage of Céline's parents returning home separately, leaving the young girl to her own devices, the two lovebirds met in a former café-crêperie near Korn ar Gazel beach. As for drinks, they only served goat and cow's milk, but the owner, Yvette Tanguy, still made her crêpes. Although the flour, compared to what was used before the blackout, was of poor quality and invariably formed lumps, customers often came to enjoy them while spending a pleasant moment.

A warm fire burned in a stone fireplace, and people played dice, cards, and dominoes on the few tables scattered throughout the small room. The rain pounded on the windows and roof. Despite her advanced age, Yvette Tanguy was still serving tables. To avoid rumors that would inevitably reach Céline's parents, they arrived separately and acted as if they had no choice but to share a table. They didn't really need to pretend, as there were indeed many people that afternoon.

Pierre sat across from Céline and ordered a crêpe from the old woman with a face marked by decades. She returned a few minutes later with a plate in the center of which was a thick, steaming, and fragrant crêpe. It wasn't just a crêpe but a filled crêpe with a slice of ham, cheese, and an egg inside.

"Here you go, young man. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you."

As soon as he saw the crêpe arrive, he started to salivate in anticipation of the delicious flavors. But as he was about to start eating, the old woman's last words made him freeze.

"You make a lovely couple."

"Hu?! W-what?" Céline exclaimed as if a cat's tail had been stepped on.

"Uh, excuse me? We... We are not a couple."

"Oh, sure, sure. I believe you."

She doesn't seem to believe me at all!

"I assure you!" he said a bit too loudly, trying to sound firm.

While Pierre was on the defensive, especially with so many people around, Céline blushed.

"My boy, at my age, it's not easy to fool me. I've seen many things, and I know a couple when I see one. What a charming young girl. So much love in those beautiful blue eyes. Young man, you should take responsibility. Don't make her wait."

This time, it was Pierre's turn to blush. This peaceful old lady seemed to know a lot about them and wanted to play Cupid.

"It's... It's complicated."

"Complicated? Oh, ho, ho! Nothing is complicated at the beginning, believe me. Starting a relationship is the easiest part. It's maintaining it that's difficult. Oh, how many times did I not argue with my late husband? But if your love is as strong as ours, then your relationship will last a lifetime!"

"That's not it. It's... We live in completely crazy times. We don't know how things will evolve. For now, the situation is not ideal."

"Oh, ho, ho! In that case, you can wait a long time. You'll always find excuses not to take the plunge. Do you think the war stopped me from getting married and starting a family? My boy, don't spend your life waiting for the right moment. You could miss out on wonderful moments and have regrets. And you, young lady..."

"M-me?"

"Don't give up. Push him a little. Otherwise, he'll never decide. Oh, ho, ho, just like I did with my Louis. It's the best way to have no regrets! I'll leave you now, I have other customers to serve, and these crêpes won't make themselves."

Céline nodded vigorously and smiled warmly at Pierre, who was left speechless.

"She's not wrong, you know?"

"But to rush headlong... I'm not sure it's wise. We're just getting to know each other, Céline. Maybe you'll realize along the way..."

"Stop. Stop it. I'm willing to give you time, but I'm sure of myself and my feelings. It's with you that I want to be. I can wait a little, but please, don't make me wait too long. I don't know what's going to happen, but like her, I don't want to have any regrets."

"Alright. Come on, eat your crêpe."