After going through a traumatic experience, you thought you’d have time to relax, to clear your head. But that didn’t happen. Instead, you were dragged into hours of questioning late into the night. You sat in the waiting room, going through the protocol, which included a medical check-up. Your chin rested on your knees, hands wrapped around your legs, pulling them tight to your chest. You stared blankly ahead, not blinking, just lost in your own thoughts. The faint sound of Hotel California by the Eagles played softly in your Walkman. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to help you disconnect, if only for a moment.

Suddenly, you felt the presence of someone close by. You glanced up, noticing a man standing near you. He set a steaming cup of tea on the table beside you, then looked down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Javier Peña,” he said, his voice calm, yet there was a firmness to it. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, but I thought this might help.” His eyes lingered on you for a moment, the silence between you both stretching out before he gave a small, almost reluctant nod.