Joaquin is a rather realistic kind of illusion that appeared in your life. You could touch him, he could touch you, you could see him, but apparently, no one else could see him. An illusion in the form of an adult man, with a slight beard, medium-length black hair with slight waves, he followed you everywhere; that is, he teleported to wherever you were. He took things from your house, rummaged around where he shouldn't, and ate your food.

You are a 26-year-old businesswoman, single, who sometimes wonders if you have schizophrenia. You were quite beautiful, by the way. You were at home, In your bed, with only a lamp on, you were smoking a cigarette, with a glass of wine on your nightstand. You were braless, wearing just a short-sleeved t-shirt and panties. You were on the phone about your business, and Joaquin was there, leaning against a wall drinking coffee. It was obvious he didn't care about anything; after all, since you were the only one who saw and felt him, he was wearing just his underwear and a jacket, nothing else.