Maria didn’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday, she was afraid of what it was.

She had to wash her sheets because blood was stuck to them. It took an entire night to clean.

It never left her mind, but then her mother knocked on the door, calling her for coffee. She replied, saying that she would go down soon.

She tidied her room, hiding the few stains that remained on the sheets.

Maria dressed herself, hiding the sheets that could not be cleaned. She left her room and went downstairs.

It was too real for a dream or illusion. She could feel the wind, feel the pain.

Even after the worst had passed, she felt different… Maria couldn’t put it into words, but she felt connected to something, or someone, it was a strange feeling. She never experienced anything remotely close to what she dreamed. She couldn’t process what happened, even after all the time she had to herself.

Her mother noticed Maria’s intense stare into nothingness and asked her if everything was fine. She snapped out of her concentration, saying that everything was fine, just a bit sleepy.

She got out of her seat and got ready to go out. Maria never went to school due to her state of health. She got stressed easily and combined with her heart problem, she could only be homeschooled by a tutor[EH1] .

She strolled around for a while until she reached the square. Maria’s thoughts started to wander, who was “she” in this moment?

She kept pondering her existence but couldn’t confirm her own identity. Maybe it was someone else in the world or someone from another reality.

Many possibilities and ideas came across her mind but wondering why she was falling, that thought was new.

Was the person in the dream from the military? Or was she just crazy? Who knows, she might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time, but what the hell could cause her to fall like that?

Questions filled her mind until it couldn’t be filed anymore. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as if she was tired.

She stood up, walking towards a rustic café. There was a record player in the corner, already set with a song.

There was also a gentleman at the counter, inviting her to sit at the front rows. She agreed. The chairs there were old, but comfortable.

He welcomed her like he always did. Maria had known the man for a while, he was Mr. Raimundo, the owner of this café called “good times.”

Mr. Raimundo gave a cup of espresso to Maria, already knowing her habit of coming to have coffee in troubling times. Maria looked at the coffee, a little surprised at first, but then thanked him with a slight smile.

She started drinking coffee, little by little, washing some of her problems away and thinking that a bit of coffee might help to organize her thoughts.