Going back to the office was almost a relief.
Almost.
The elevator doors opened on the usual floor with their familiar soft hum, and I was greeted by the smell of coffee and fresh cleaning products. The meticulous routine Carmen maintained like a Swiss watch was comforting. As if here, at least, things still made sense.
— Miguel!
Her voice reached me before I even crossed the glass doors.
— Thank God. I was worried.
She set her mug down and walked toward me with open arms. The tight, firm hug she gave me reminded me of my mother. Of a time when the world still made sense.
— And Giulia? How is she? — she asked, pulling back just enough to study my face. — You look terrible, by the way.
I let out a dry laugh.
— Thanks for the compliment. But Giulia is… okay. As much as she can be. S
