It did trip something. A truck, the sound of a rough-idling engine. The smell of flour, petrol and sweat, and a large, gentle hand patting Adrien's shoulder.

He caught his breath, blinking a few times, staring off into space, trying to chase that feeling. It slipped away like sand through his fingers.

He cleared his throat instead, lifting an eyebrow. "Bags of flour, huh?"