On the muggy night, Remi observed the dark and heavy clouds. It was a majestic sight, if not for people fleeing from the impending rain. Walking through the well-lit streets of Bevan, he could smell the damp earth and hear the sound of leaves rustling among the trees. The night's shy chill didn't bother him much. It was a beautiful sight, a light mist covering the yellow street lamps on that immense avenue. When the first drop of water innocently fell on Remi's shoulder, he pulled the hood of his coat over his head.

"Damn, forgot my earphones," he thought. It wasn't a long walk to his second job, so he could listen to four or five songs every day.

Under the hood, his eyes were velvety, a color almost like black coffee but also as stormy as a restless tempest. He gazed ahead, able to hear some complaints behind him—someone must have been more bothered by his slow pace than by life itself. However, his gaze was too distant for anyone to complain directly. He was an expert at pushing others away with just his stern and long face. Lips always pressed together as if in pain, long eyelashes, thick eyebrows, low eyelids, lean cheeks, and a slender chin—these completed his remarkably undisturbed characterization. Even his not-so-straight posture conveyed a lifeless impression, appearing intimidating to some.

During the walk, Remi felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket. He let out a low breath. In three days, it was already the fifth time unknown numbers appeared on his phone screen. There was a significant number of people he wouldn't want to talk to, so he continued to ignore them. He thought about blocking the numbers, forgetting them altogether, yet he didn't lift a finger to do so. Something told him that sooner or later, he would answer that call, contrary to his own stubbornness.

He was close to his second job, but only when he saw the sign with the name "Beer and Coffee" did he quicken his pace. The rain was still falling, the weather oscillating between hot and cold driving the youth crazy and invigorating the working class on that populous avenue. If the air was warm, a beer would be welcome. If it was cold, coffee would warm the bones. There was no bad weather for those who rose early and earned their livelihood. Remi noticed this even from outside the bar, seeing the crowd seeking refuge from the expected weather.

He pushed the light glass door, and a bell rang above his head. He noticed that the sound immediately caught the attention of his coworker, Dulcina. She greeted him with a worried look, examining the dampness on his clothes, twisting her pretty face into an exaggeratedly alarmed expression.

Remi walked past her without stopping to greet her.

Upon reaching the employee room, he changed his wet shirt for the uniform, tossing his phone into the locker. Holding his eyes on the device, he shook his head more than once, not wanting to lose track of time worrying about it. He closed the locker when he felt someone approaching.

"Don't you have an umbrella?" Theo, the bar owner, arrived asking. Remi ignored the question.

"Sorry for being late."

"Don't worry about it. I can't complain about you."

Remi didn't want the praise, so he responded with a nod. Theo was a single man. Divorced at forty-five, he moved alone to the capital and decided to open a bar called "Beer and Coffee"—he claimed that his biggest dream was to go to a place where he could cook, drink beer, and smell coffee in harmony. So, he made it happen. A man without children and somewhat lonely, he also had a childish and humorless demeanor for some of his employees.

"I'll start working." The young man moved away under the gaze of his second boss, who, after certain thoughts about the boy, returned to the kitchen.

Remi headed behind the counter, the place to which he belonged. He nodded to some of the other employees in a simple greeting. Though hired only for the cash register, Remi allowed himself to do more. Cleaning tables, serving customers, and even making deliveries. He was always working.

With a cloth in hand, he wiped the counter where a customer had finished a drink.

"This is my job, you know? This way, the boss won't need me anymore," Dulcina said, approaching. She used a light tone, going against her known personality. Remi didn't need eye contact; he just tossed the cloth to her and started another task. After grabbing the cloth almost forcefully, she said, "You walked right past me earlier. Could at least say goodnight."

"The kitchen bell rang. An order is ready," he informed, well-applying himself to the situation they were in. Remi showed no concern for the scowl on her face.

"Hey! New guy? An order is ready." The redhead pointed to a boy around seventeen years old, who reacted quickly to grab the order.

Dulcina seemed to want to say something to Remi again, but the bar door opened, and the bell rang. A customer had entered.

That's when Remi raised his head, allowing a slight distraction. He let his gaze follow the customer through the bar. She moved like an enchanted feather, light and supernatural.

"She's here again. The artist," Darleen, one of the coworkers, said, approaching Dulcina. Remi referred to Darleen as "the one who changes her hair every month." "Same day, same time. I think she's wearing the same clothes too."

The guy behind the counter listened carefully to Darleen's words. He looked at the calendar; it was Tuesday. He glanced at the clock; it was half past ten. Then, he looked at her, the customer who had entered. He noticed the resemblance she had to the person he saw in his dreams. A shiver ran down his spine.

She wore the same clothes as in the past weeks—a plain dark shirt, over it a white linen coat. Somewhat worn, probably due to frequent use, but still very elegant. Her loose hair was wet from the rain, with some strands covering half of her face. Her body wasn't bulky; her diet seemed to consist of leaves and maybe some grains.

By her ink-stained fingers and emaciated appearance, the girl had become, since the first time she entered, a declining artist addicted to herbs and caffeine. A tasteless nickname given by the employees. He saw her for the first time on a Friday, remembering well because there was a movie screening. One of Theo's strategies to attract more customers.

The sensation he felt was madness. That he was imagining things. How could she be the person he saw in his dream? He felt the same in that moment.

Remi stopped again to listen to what the other two were saying.

"She sat in the same place too. And will probably make the same order, wanna bet? Just a cup of coffee," Darleen, who, at 5'1", seemed not to have reached puberty, continued speaking. "I really don't understand. If she doesn't have money to make a full order, why does she come here?"

"What would be a full order, Darleen?" Dulcina asked, seemingly not expecting an answer. "Go, please, attend to her."

Out of curiosity and nothing more, Remi watched the whole scene. Darleen went to attend to her, but the girl seemed distracted. The order was swift and expected. The blonde returned to prepare the cup of coffee. He wanted to look a little longer, realizing that every time she was there, the painting hanging on the wall was worthy of attention. The girl with ink-stained fingers seemed to enjoy the ocean painted on the canvas.

He had conflicting thoughts, like confronting her quickly. Using some arguments like: Stop coming here, please, or perhaps, stop appearing in my dreams. He realized almost in the same second how insane and aggressive it would be if he did something like that. So, he preferred to act as if none of it was really happening. He just needed to forget, he just needed to pretend to himself that all those dreams were nothing more than a momentary delirium.

Remi didn't take long to return to his duties.