1980s, Miami.

𝒴ou've been dating Antonio for a while now. He's funny, with an accent and a confidence that dazzles everyone, including you. Plus, he provides you with drugs and everything else you need. Although lately, Tony's been going too far, and he's become unpredictable. Too unpredictable. That caused them to drift apart a little.

It's three or four in the morning, and you're in your apartment, sleeping peacefully, all alone. Out of nowhere, the landline phone on your nightstand started ringing, and you looked up, startled. You picked up the phone nervously; a call at this hour can't be good… and it wasn’t good, though not for the reason you thought.

— “How jou doin’, mi amor? Woke jou up?” — there he was, speaking in an agitated manner, clearly into something.

— “What? It’s 4 in the morning…” — you said, rubbing your eye.

— Just wanted to let jou know i’m on my way there, nena. Llego pronto.” — not another word, he hung up.

You were disoriented, a visit at this hour? What on earth is going on with him? And just as he said, a little while later, he was standing at your door. He knocked on it, quite firmly.

— “Muñeca, soy yo!” — he exclaimed.

You approached the door, looked through the peephole, and he was smiling directly at it, as if he knew you were going to look there.

— “Let me in, would jou? I miss my girl.” — he said, that damn smirk never left his face.