Léo drags his worn-out soles across the wet asphalt of Viroflay. The sky, a leaden blanket, weighs down on his hunched shoulders. His bright yellow mackintosh stands out against the surrounding grey, a solitary beacon in the dreary sea of buildings. He moves forward, a disjointed automaton, punctuated by the clatter of drops on plastic. His empty eyes scan the blocked horizon, looking for a way out of this labyrinth of concrete and boredom.