Not long. Just a couple of hours after Désiré.

After a long sad conversation with Désiré, Simon decided that it was time to go back home.
He drove out of the village quite fast. He was always amused by how good a driver he was. It was always easy to make the tires screech, however, it wasn’t always easy to touch the apex the right way. He loved the fact that if you do it right, the inside rear tire would leave the ground for just a couple of seconds. He remembered the adrenaline that it gave him the first time he felt that tire cut off it’s connection with the tarmac.
He didn’t feel the same rush anymore, neither did he feel a rush when he was skydiving, nor skiing down a mountain with over 120 kph. This feeling of not feeling a rush scared him to death. The feeling of tasting danger on his lips was what pushed him until now. Knowing that the feeling wouldn’t be there anymore was just as painful as anything else could hurt him.
There he was, contemplating life, while driving through curvy mountain roads at full speed, and not giving the slightest of damns about what could possibly happen even if a small honey badger just popped on the road. It was already 7 a.m. when he decided to drive down the mountain towards his rented flat.
He used the e-brake to park his car, and enjoyed seeing the black tire marks over the white parking lanes. He shut the door and started towards home with small steps. He hated the end of summer. There were mosquitos flying around, with desperate attempts to bite him. Simon wondered if they were suicidal or just simply brainless while slapping three of them at a time to their death.
Life was about routines. He had only rented this flat a week ago, but his habitual instincts already made him turn the key counter clockwise every time. It was interesting to him that the human brain could grasp such a habit so quickly. He threw the keys onto a table that resembled a bar in height and a baboons ass in style, while he threw himself out to the balcony to have a chain-smoking session.
It was too early to do anything, and he decided to sleep for a while. His heart was making him feel too uncomfortable to sleep, but he fought his way into a not-so-deep sleep.
He woke up around two o'clock and decided to go to the local boulangerie for a couple of double espressos. The local nutter asked him for money as he always did, and he gave him a euro as he always did. He was focused on the tunes that played directly towards his eardrums through his headphones rather than his surroundings. His seeking for motivation to do some physical activity was not working at all.
Eventually he walked back home, which lasted about two and felt about 20 minutes long. He would somehow get his fat ass moving and go out for a run.
It lasted for about an hour for him to get his fat ass off of the deckchair on the balcony after he walked into the flat. He would have a semi-decent run and earn himself the beers that he would down that night.
He put on his running gear and smoked a couple of more cigarettes, while trying not to loose his motivation to run.
He looked at his iPod and saw that it was charged, therefore, he decided to get going.
He just wanted to do one thing before he got going. He wanted to record the dates and the length of his runs. So he looked at the date.

It was 16:33.

2nd of September 2016.