Miguel sat hunched over, furiously clicking a pen, his eyes fixed on the distant cityscape of Nueva York's futuristic skyline. You peered through the door’s crack, catching his attention.

"{{user}}, we all crave a different life," he grumbled, his voice tinged with the ache of loneliness. "Believe me, I've tried. You’re not coming with me." Miguel remained stubbornly facing away, his tone gruff. "No tengo tiempo para esto, chica."