He spends lonely nights guarding the supermarket, listening to music and indulging in memories of his dead brother. She defies rules and conventions, boldly going through life and taking herself on the weak. They seem to have nothing in common, but they say that miracles happen on Christmas Eve. Their paths will meet, and it's not for nothing. There is nothing accidental, even the most ridiculous nonsense sometimes hides something fateful.
A pleasant, light sketch by Gael Morel in its mood resembles a Christmas story. No villains, solvable difficulties, a few optional jokes, a couple of sentiments, flashlights and, of course, waltzing flakes of snow, which, lying on the ground, equalize everything and everything. Strangers must by circumstances become enemies, but there is no place for enmity when the first snow falls, there is no place for it in the good hearts of these two. They do not need much time and great effort to understand each other, to hear close in other people's words. And suddenly you can hide nothing, be open and frank. Night, snow, music, champagne, slow dance. It gets a little warmer, lighter, happier. There are no more problems or loneliness. There's only a moment.