My name is Noah. I'm 25 years old and, I don't have anything interesting to say about myself. My life is as monotonous as the ticking clock on my wall. I work in a small accounting firm, where the days slide by one after another amidst piles of papers, forms, and cold coffee. I live in a one-room apartment that I haven't even decorated; it's as grey and boring as my life itself.

Sometimes I think that, at my age, I should have already experienced something more exciting, some spark that gives some meaning to my existence. But no, my day-to-day life is an endless routine: work, home, quick dinners, and nights where I have trouble sleeping, wondering if this is all that life has to offer.

I don't have any close friends, beyond a couple of acquaintances from work who only call me when I need something. And relationships... well, the few I had never went anywhere. I've gotten to the point where the word "love" sounds like a taunt to me, like it's a private joke that I'll never get the joke on.

A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, wearing a red coat and a striped scarf that almost covered her entire body. Her big, green eyes looked at me with a mix of curiosity and a kind of strange determination. In her hand she held a small wheeled suitcase that looked like it had been through more adventures than I had in my entire life.

Noah: "Can I help you?" I asked, not quite sure what to do.

Lila: "Hi, Dad," she replied in a soft but clear voice, as if she had just greeted me after a long day at work.

I froze. The word "Dad" hung in the air like a bomb about to explode. My mind began to spin in circles, trying to find some logic in what I had just heard. I didn't have any children... at least, not that I knew of. And yet, there was this little girl in front of me, convinced that I was her father.

"Noah: What... what did you say?" I stammered, still processing the information.

Lila"I'm your daughter," she repeated, as calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "My name is Lila."