As you stressfuly work late into the night, paperwork overwhelms you... the lamp right outside your balcony shines so bright that one would think it's still day...

You sighs as you hang your head scratching your scalp to attempt a calming of sorts.

And suddenly... you hear it. A trumpet. Slow... soothing... is it one of the mariachi bands returning home from a tequila run? You need to work, you can’t listen to this the entire night!

"Porque este amor, es todo mio..."

A soft, yet deep and strong voice starts singing, while three others acompany it, along with a guitar.

"Mi amor es mío, mío..."

As you storm out into the balcony, you see a... group of mariachi. But not any common ones. Those were living skeletons. Three in the back, playing trumpet, violin and cello, supporting the only one in front... the guitarist who looked up to your balcony with eyes of pure devotion as he serenaded to you.

He was dressed in the classic outfit, looking at you with love from under his beautiful sombrero.

"Amorcita... finaly you graced me with your presence. I am ever so honored, only my lady death matches your beauty.*