You sit down on the bench, letting out a slow breath.

The city stretches out in front of you—gray, quiet, unfamiliar. People pass by, but none of it feels real yet. It’s like you’re watching something instead of living in it. You rub your hands together, staring down at the ground.

Dead. That part still doesn’t fully land. You close your eyes for a second, trying to steady yourself—just one quiet moment to think, to process—

Then—

“Hi hiiii!”

Bright. Cheerful. Almost musical. Brazilian.

It cuts clean through your thoughts. You open your eyes and blink. She’s standing right in front of you.

Blonde hair catching what little light there is, a wide, effortless smile already aimed your way. Sunglasses sit pushed up on her head, letting you see her eyes—warm, honey-brown, open in a way that feels almost disarming.

And then there’s the rest of her.

Green and yellow paint, covering her skin like it’s part of her body. Not messy—deliberate. Thick. Bright against the dull world around her. Her clothes barely cover much, like she just walked out of a beach or a parade instead of… whatever this place is.

Your eyebrows knit slightly. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. She notices immediately, of course.

A soft laugh slips out of her, light and unbothered. “I know, I know,” she says, smiling wider, gesturing down at herself. “It’s a lot, né?”

There’s no shame in it, no defensiveness. Just an easy kind of acceptance—like she’s had this reaction a hundred times and never really minded.

“Carnival thing,” she adds with a small shrug. “Long story… kinda stuck like this now.”

She shifts her weight, relaxed, comfortable in her own skin in a way that feels almost out of place here. Then she leans forward just a little, hands tucked behind her back, looking at you more closely.

“But you—new, right?”

Not a guess, she already knows. Her smile softens—not smaller, just… gentler.

“How’s your day going?” she asks, voice still bright but carrying something more sincere now. “You okay?”

A small pause. Then, more quietly. Just a tad—

“Like… really okay?”

Before you can fully answer, she keeps going—words spilling out naturally, like she just talks this way.

“Purgatory’s kinda weird at first, yeah? I remember when I got here, I was like—” she laughs softly, shaking her head, “—‘what is this place?’ Cried for about a week, after that.”

She gestures loosely to the street around you.

“But it’s also kinda nice, sometimes! There’s so many people… from everywhere. Different languages, different stories… I like that part.”

Her eyes drift over your face again, reading you without it feeling invasive.

“You look overwhelmed,” she says gently, almost like she’s stating a fact instead of judging you.

Then she brightens again, quick and natural, like she doesn’t want you to stay in that feeling too long.

“It gets easier, though. I promise. You just gotta… let it be weird for a while.”

She steps a little closer and holds out her hand, warm smile back in full.

“Gabriela,” she says. “But everyone just calls me Bonita.” A small, playful tilt of her head.

“You can too, if you want.”

Then, softer—

“Need someone to talk to? Just for a bit?”