"Don't be scared!"

Amanda's piercing scream made the nearby windows tremble.

"Sssh, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

A colorful, fairy-like figure emerged from the darkness.

"It’s one thing that my butt and thighs are freezing, but not even being able to sit down on this damn bus? Of course, the only available seats are the aisle ones…"

—Name?

—Dear Friend.

—Occupation?

—Emotional dumpster.

—What’s that?

—You know, someone people call when they need to unburden their soul.

"What's up with the guy who's harassing you?"

"What? Someone's harassing you?"

"You didn't even know?"

The two friends looked questioningly at Hilda, who was sitting across from them.

“Alfie!” shouted the group of thirty-somethings at the table in unison.

Beer mugs, wine glasses, and shot glasses were raised high as the man entered the bar.

His mother used to scare him as a child, saying that biting his nails would cause them to collect in his intestines, forming a lump that could eventually kill him. Terrified of such a gruesome death, he tried to impose a limit: one nail a day, slowly, savoring it, in the smallest possible pieces.

Sonja threw herself into Pablo’s arms so suddenly that the man in his early sixties nearly lost his balance. Luckily, his reflexes were still sharp.

“Oh no, I’m going to fall,” the young woman giggled, pulling closer to the man gripping the pole above their heads.

She playfully wrapped her fingers around his hairy wrist, adorned with an expensive watch.

Anna collapsed onto the bench in the changing room, exhausted after the dance class. She wiped the sweat from her forehead while the music they had just practiced to still played softly in the corner of the room.

Mom went out in the morning to get the sweet, red apples that Dad would later slice at the holiday table. I knew it would be a long adventure, both because of the crowds in town and my mom’s chatty nature.