The young man was getting ready to close the place. Accustomed to the work, he lowered the iron doors of the bar. On the street, a motorcycle sped by, bothering him. At that moment, he felt more than just bothered; he was annoyed. Throughout the process of closing the doors, Dulcina watched him. He tried his best to hide his angry temperament, doing everything not to be rude. He wasn't sure if it was showing on his face because, if it was, it wasn't helping.

As he always did, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and took a deep breath before saying, "You don't have to stay here watching me close the doors."

"It's okay, one more minute won't make a difference."

Remi blinked slowly, thoughtful as he usually was. "Go home. It's late," he said when he turned to the opposite side, feeling his arm being grabbed.

When he gave the attention she wanted, he noticed that Dulcina had a pleading look on her face. He quickly thought about how she appeared innocent and weak. He knew well that deep down, Dulcina wasn't like that. She wasn't naive and not prone to teary-eyed looks. She was just a bit older than him, her pompous and decisive manner used to make Remi's heart race.

She also had a citrusy smell, like orange juice, or maybe Sicilian lemon...

"Don't treat me like this."

"Like what?" His expression didn't change, but the question was honest.

"You know how. I just want to talk. Really, and also be able to explain everything."

Remi put his hand on hers and precisely made her release his arm. Those words irritated him. Maintaining his empty gaze was not a difficult task. However, he knew that if it were in different times, Dulcina's scene would not be in vain.

"Don't be foolish. Go home. It's late," he said, raising his chin to the street.

He turned around once again, starting to walk in long strides with no chance for turnarounds. But he still heard her say, "You need to talk to me, Remi. Just one word from you, and..."

Remi didn't look back, didn't want to hear more. He just continued down the avenue, the yellow street lamps illuminating the profile of his face.

The smell of wet soil in the air was nostalgic. Despite being saddened by nostalgic thoughts, it still pleased his sense of smell. He didn't listen to music that night, yet he was able to silence the world in his own way. He tried not to think or remember the past; it usually worked against short memories, and even though it didn't work well with the old ones, he was content to try.

He walked without haste to get where he needed to go, his home. However, when he felt his stomach ache, he had to check the time on his wristwatch. It was close to four in the morning, and the last time he had eaten something was at lunch. It wasn't the first time he had forgotten to eat. He thought that only water was enough to keep his body functioning.

I should eat something, he thought.

Remi entered a convenience store, feeling the cold breeze from the air conditioner mess up his statically standing hair. A young man at the cash register greeted him, and he headed towards the freezers. Opening the fridge, he took a grape soda and a sandwich, a bit expensive for such a thin layer of tuna between two slices of white bread.

The young man at the cash register absentmindedly received his money, engrossed in something on his phone.

While waiting for the change, Remi was brought outside the store when his peripheral vision noticed something.

He had to look twice.

"She's been there since earlier. Sat down and passed out," the boy at the cash register still fiddled with his phone when he spoke. Somehow, he sensed the puzzled expression on Remi's face. "Some people have no sense in this world."

Outside, leaning on a plastic table, someone slept with their head down. But it couldn't be just anyone, because something told him he had seen that white coat somewhere.

Yes, I saw, he concluded in thought.