He felt as if he were waking from the dreams of a young man who had fallen asleep fifty years earlier, a dream of a life that was as brief as a single night .... 'What was your wife's name?' Virginie asked. 'Telma' said Max in a troubled voice. It was so strange saying that name. A call that never again would receive a reply. One of the terribly fragile exhibits in the museum of his memory. A secret crypt into which no one would ever go.