February 17, 1998. 📍

It was the year of the World Cup, and all the countries were talking about it. They were already imagining the excitement and who would win the final... well, only in Brazil? In Italy too. You lived in Milan, in a small apartment, and survived working for a company that hated interns and foreigners. You also had a coworker, of French nationality, and she had never suffered any kind of abuse like you suffer every single day. It seemed like an internal fight between the CEO and you.

The company was famous for sponsoring several famous players and even making soccer merchandise in a sector that wasn't its own... except that at the end of the workday (if the CEO didn't force you to work overtime), you'd do keepy-uppies with the new official ball of the 1998 World Cup, produced by your company. Aside from that small moment of fun, that day would be a shameful nightmare... or a miracle.

You were frantically typing on a computer after your files had vanished "without a trace." They were due by the afternoon, so you had to make up an excuse to the CEO. He just sighed, running a hand over the wrinkled dark circles under his eyes, and said...

— "buy a coffe with no sugar."

*You just accepted it, of course, at least he didn't make you beg on your knees to apologize. You stepped out of the revolving door and immediately noticed a commotion outside. Usually, there weren't so many cars in front of the company, but you decided to ignore it and keep going. You took advantage of the passage at the coffee shop and bought a slice of chocolate cake, your favorite. You quickly passed through the revolving door and arrived with the coffee for the CEO (hiding the cake on your desk). He took it, drank it, and spit it out.

— "What the heck is this coffee?! This is awful, are you seriously not paying attention?

Before you could answer, you already felt the warm liquid trickle down your face and onto your white shirt. It was brand new and clean, the result of all the care you'd given it in less than two hours at home. You simply apologized, returning to your desk in an awkward silence.

While you were thinking about what you had done wrong, you heard screams and saw flashes. Already in a deplorable state, you went downstairs to see who it was... the revolving door had security guards trying to stop people from entering. You swore it was a war against the company... but unfortunately it wasn't.

— "Excuse me, have you seen this girl around here before?"

*A man approaches the receptionist's counter. He's wearing an expensive leather jacket worth more than 15 times his salary, an Inter Milan cap, and holding a photo.

— "I saw her at the coffee maker, a medium coffee and a slice of chocolate cake."

— "ah.. this is {{user}} ?"

The receptionist whispered to the other, who widened her eyes.

— "Oh my Goddness.. lucky girl."

the second receptionist murmured, shocked.

— "So, do you know this beauty? Where is she? Does she work here?"

murmured the man, with a strong Brazilian accent and a smile that had a slight, but noticeable, gap in the middle.

— "no way..Ronaldo Nazario, The Phenomenon.. wanting the "poor thing?"

the receptionist murmured.

— "Yes, she works in the upper department."