Before me stretched a desote ndscape, whispering tales of a bygone beauty now reduced to rubble by some unknown camity—or perhaps the relentless march of time.

  Hundreds of homes, silent witnesses to the lives and memories of countless families who once breathed life into this pce, had succumbed to its unyielding dominion. Nature, in its triumph, had recimed the nd with its roots, almost entirely erasing any trace of humanity and plunging into oblivion the stories this pce once harbored.

  My mind fills with scenes of thousands of people abandoning the city, while an unfamiliar mencholy slowly takes root in my chest.

  Children, driven by their innate curiosity about the world and oblivious to the reason behind this exodus, turn to their parents and grandparents for answers. The adults, though burdened with heavy hearts, reply with forced smiles, unwilling to add to the children’s uncertainty.

  Some of the young are swept up by the nostalgia of the elders, while others, less tied to their roots, let their minds wander among the endless possibilities that a new home might offer.

  Without a doubt, the elderly were the most affected. The idea of leaving the city where they were born and where they thought they would be buried had never even crossed their minds. Some gave in to the persuasion of their families, while others—too stubborn or without friends or loved ones to convince them—chose to stay and fulfill their final wish: to perish alongside the city.

  I don’t know if the images in my mind are memories of the past or if I’m simply trying to make sense of the forgotten ruins before me.

  I’m not certain what happened in this pce, but I can almost guarantee that whatever it was, it allowed the inhabitants enough time to leave the city safely, as I haven't found a single human remain. Of course, there’s also the possibility that the city had been abandoned for so long that those remains had already turned to dust.

  A vast variety of pnts now adorns the ancient city, making it nearly impossible to distinguish its streets. Lush fruit trees, covered in blossoms, not only provide crucial insight into the fertility of the soil but also imbue the ndscape with an indescribable touch of magic.

  Several structures, now ruins, stand as silent witnesses to a collective failure against the relentless advance of nature. Completely overgrown with foliage, only the imposing wall that once protected the city from invaders and the majestic castle have managed to withstand the ceaseless assault of time and vegetation. Their survival is a testament to the effort, dedication, and craftsmanship with which they were built by the ancient artisans.

  Sitting atop the castle’s highest tower, like a princess awaiting rescue, I savor the sweet yet slightly tart fvor of the fruits offered by the nearby trees. I take in the breathtaking view before me as my thoughts wander, drifting into specution—courtesy of the beautifully adorned encyclopedia resting in my hands.

  Perhaps, if I could understand the contents of the book, I might uncover what kind of beings once inhabited this pce—or, even better, the reason why I am here.

  Of course, I am not the only living creature in this pce. However, the presence of this peculiar specimen, rather than clearing the doubts in my mind, only raises more questions. A rather rge baby lizard, whose existence I am deeply grateful for—since without him, I would be drowning in complete solitude—rests beside me, seemingly indifferent to everything, enjoying the nonexistent winds that caress this strange ndscape.

  —Want some fruit, my scaly friend?

  —Hmphgrrr.

  —It’s just a little bite, don’t pay it any mind. Stop being so picky.

  "....."

  His slightly golden eyes stared at me with clear disdain, as if the mere thought of sharing the same fruit was an unforgivable offense.

  —Fine, I won’t offer you any more of my food.

  Above my head, the sky slowly sank into the shadows of night, spreading its cloak of darkness over the fading daylight, which inevitably retreated, allowing the twilight to take its pce, little by little.

  —It's a beautiful view, don't you think?

  —Grawr? —the little one responded, tilting his head in clear doubt.

  Makes sense, I thought. This pce is all he knows. To him, there’s nothing extraordinary about it—no reason to share the level of awe it inspires in me.

  *Aaaaah*

  —Well, my imaginary friend, it's time for us to part ways. Though I know you won’t remember this, I'll see you tomorrow, young Kairon.

  With the sunset came a familiar feeling of drowsiness, like a whisper reminding me that my time had run out. Fighting the exhaustion would be pointless, so I took the moment to bid farewell to my companion, running my hand over his head. Despite his scales, his texture was surprisingly smooth—pleasant enough to make petting him enjoyable.

  The drowsiness grew stronger, washing over me like a silent tide, and a low gurgle of farewell from the young one was the st thing I heard before succumbing to Morpheus' deep embrace. ---------------------------------------------------

  ? ring ring ring ring ?

  —Good morning, am I speaking with Mr. Patelsson?

  —Yes, this is him.*Aaah*

  —Oh, I’m sorry to wake you up.

  —Don’t worry, if you hadn’t, the arm would have.

  —I see. Nice to meet you, I’m Carmil. I’m calling to confirm your participation in today’s community initiative.

  —10:30, right?

  —That’s right. We’re pnning to meet at the park to assign tasks more efficiently.

  —Alright, I’ll see you there.

  ? tud tud tud ?

  As I hung up the call, still feeling a bit of heaviness in my eyelids, I noticed my phone read 8:50. My mind quickly did the math—I had just over an hour to get to the meeting pce.

  It was that warm time of the year when getting out of bed feels like an odyssey, even when my sweat-sticky skin and the urgent need to empty my bdder insisted otherwise. Laziness clung to my body, sparking a tug-of-war between the pleasure of staying in bed and the responsibilities I had to fulfill.

  Unfortunately, and much to my dismay, I’m not someone who says no once I’ve said yes. My system isn’t programmed to go back on my word, so in the end, ziness lost the battle.

  With heavy steps, like a zombie chasing a wounded prey, I dragged myself to the bathroom, clinging to the hope that a cold shower would wash away any lingering exhaustion and grime clinging to me. ? ? ?

  Fifteen minutes were enough to shake off most of the morning ziness that consumed me every day. But as the saying goes, *where there was fire, ashes remain.* I knew it was still there, lurking in the deepest corners of my mind, waiting for the slightest sign of weakness to drag me back into *just a little more rest* which, honestly, didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  I stepped out of the shower with nothing but a towel draped over my shoulders. The cold water had given me the energy and attitude needed to start the day. Of course, breakfast was still pending, so that energy had its limits.

  —Gentleman, this much beauty should be ilegal —I told myself as I caught my reflection in the mirror.

  My bare image exuded an "overwhelming" amount of charm—at least if you asked me. Of course, others, with a "clear" touch of envy, would probably say my looks were average or even below today's beauty standards. But really, who needs standards when you’ve got "this" natural charisma?

  Bck hair in a comb-over style that I’ve had for as long as I can remember—or at least for as long as I’ve had hair. Eyes of a peculiar golden ochre color, warm-toned skin, high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows, and full lips that, in my opinion, convey warmth and authenticity. At 21, I stand at 1.77 meters, so I doubt fate will gift me any extra height at this point. Weighing 70 kilos, I seem to be in good health, and my complete ck of facial hair doesn’t affect my look in the slightest.

  That st part was something I came to terms with after multiple failed attempts to grow a respectable beard. The best I ever managed was looking like a kiwi, which led me to abandon my fruitless efforts and embrace my hairless fate with dignity. It is what it is. At least it matches my skin—or so I tell myself to avoid facing the harsh truth: you can’t fight nature. Damn genetics.

  I have to admit, I’m not one to keep up with fashion or particurly care about what I wear, at least not for casual outings like this. So I grabbed the first thing I found in my closet, and in an instant, I was ready.

  A bathroom, a kitchen, a small living room, and a bedroom—that’s all the space in my small but cozy apartment. A few steps are enough to move from one area to another. A small space, yes, but perfect for someone like me, who prefers to move as little as possible on days off.

  I opened the fridge urgently, driven by the growl of my stomach, and eagerly devoured a lonely apple. I washed it down with the fizzy liquid of an energy drink—a breakfast worthy of someone who has put off grocery shopping for far too long.

  I need to buy groceries, I thought, staring at the almost desote emptiness of the fridge, which looked just as hungry as I was.

  I’m no nutritionist, but I’m pretty sure an apple and an energy drink don’t make a proper breakfast. In fact, that’s not even a breakfast. However, it was enough to settle my stomach—at least until I found something decent ter.

  It was already 9:15 when I left home. I had plenty of time, so I could take things easy. I hate rushing; it’s too stressful, and there’s always a greater chance of something going wrong.

  I took one st look inside the apartment to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything and then shut the door, leaving behind the comfort of apartment 402.

  The memory of the st time the building’s elevator worked had long since faded from my mind. Despite that, my steps instinctively led me to it, carrying a baseless hope of avoiding the more than 60 steps to the exit. That hope quickly crumbled with the words of my neighbor from 401, who was leaving at the same time as me:

  —Out of service. Still not fixed.

  It was expected, but I had to try, right? You never know—maybe one day the elevator will miraculously come back to life. In any case, there was no choice but to rely on my still-loyal legs and follow my sturdy neighbor down the stairs.

  —Good morning, Mr. Ando.

  —Morning, kid. Off to work?

  —No, it’s my day off.

  —A day off and still so full of energy? It’s good to be young.

  —Hahaha, to be honest, I would’ve loved to stay home all day, but I already committed to a few things. By the way, how’s Mrs. Margaret’s health?

  Margaret, Mr. Ando’s wife, had a heart attack a few days ago. I’m quite close to the couple, so I visited her the day after the incident. From what I saw, she seemed to be recovering well, but several days have passed, and she still hasn't been discharged, maybe due to her age or some medical complication I'm unaware of —after all, I'm not a doctor.

  —Much better. The doctors say she needs to rest and avoid any shocks. You know how these things go. I’m heading to the hospital right now—hopefully, they’ll finally discharge her. The poor woman is desperate to get out of that bed.

  —Send her my regards and tell her I hope to see her around here soon. We miss her... and her lemon cakes.

  —It’s the family’s secret recipe, that’s why they’re so good —the man said with a smug smile. And he had every right to be proud—at every gathering, those lemon cakes were always the highlight.

  The tiresome and tedious descent from the fourth floor was made far more bearable thanks to Mr. Ando and his endless repertoire of curious stories—the kind that make you lose track of time without even realizing it.

  Our conversation came to an end as we reached the building’s entrance, where we went our separate ways. I put on my headphones, letting the algorithm decide what I should listen to as I got ready for my run. I stretched my body calmly, just as I’d read one should do to avoid injuries.

  Maybe it was overkill, considering I was only going for a jog, but I didn’t care. If a few minutes of stretching could lower the risk of a hypothetical injury, I’d gdly do it.

  Sixteen minutes of jogging were enough to get my joints moving without arriving at the gym exhausted—after all, the goal is to train, not to drag myself to the entrance.

  I signed up at the gym with one purpose: to stay in shape. My goal isn’t to have sculpted muscles or a superstar physique; I just want my body to be as healthy as possible and capable of reacting in case of a hypothetical attack. That’s also why I practice Krav Maga.

  I must confess that Krav Maga wasn’t my first choice—it was capoeira. I found it fascinating, with its fluid movements and its blend of dance and combat. But, as I quickly discovered, dancing is not one of my strong suits. Still, I tried with enthusiasm. However, during the learning process, there were a few… incidents that cut my progress short in this amazing mating dance. In short, I have not a single ounce of rhythm in me.