Clara
I leave the room with my bag hanging on my shoulder and a strange sensation in my chest.
It's not exactly fear... but it is not calm either.
It's something in between, something I can't quite define. I walk down the hotel corridor with firm steps, although inside I am still trying to settle in. To tidy up everything that was left loose since last night. The elevator takes a few seconds to arrive, too long.
My fingers move restlessly against the leather of the bag as I look at the reflection of the metal doors. My image... This version of me, arranged, composed, functional. Professional.
As if nothing had happened, as if inside there was not a knot that I still cannot untie.
The doors open, I enter. I press the lobby button and as the elevator descends... I close my eyes for a
