The taste. She can feel the taste of his lips in her mouth even without ever kissing him. She knew they were soft, warm, and delicious.

The closeness. She isn’t in love. She just desires him.

“Today is all mine!” Amara exclaimed, throwing both arms in the air.

She glanced out the window one more time at the street, as if afraid the school bus her two sons had boarded might come back. Of course, the bus was long gone.

“I look like a stuffed diving suit!”

Arnold’s complaint met no response from Tim. He rolled his eyes and continued unloading the dishwasher as if he hadn’t heard a word.

“Excuse me, I got all sweaty during the last training session. I only had time to quickly put on another shirt,” Alexandra apologised in a hurry.

Her dance partner raised his eyebrows to his hairline.

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind,” the young woman waved dismissively.

As she turned onto the street, a sharp pain shot through Bernadett’s upper arm. By the time she reached the entrance to the studio, it ached so badly she could barely lift it. Just like every Monday evening, when she had her dance class with this group.

Tom didn’t stand a chance. Hilde practically grabbed the phone from the table before it even rang.

“Why does this bitch keep calling?”

“Hilde…”

“No, Tom, don’t hush me! She calls multiple times a day; it’s not normal!”

“Would you like anything else?” Emma asked Sam, who appeared more exhausted than usual as he arrived for his monthly medication.

The chemistry teacher, barely fifty, shook his head. After such an awful day, he didn’t even feel like speaking.

The damp neoprene barely wanted to fit. Zita pulled desperately at the suit, unsure who had worn it before. She just hoped that no one had peed in it and that, at the very least, the tight, suffocating jumpsuit had been thoroughly cleaned.

"Excuse me, ma'am, could you tell me what event is happening at the other end of the park? I see many people heading that way."

"The retirees' choir is performing soon."

"How kind of you, thank you!"

"You're very welcome, although I don't think they're what they used to be."

“Show me more pictures of the view,” Pálma begged her former colleague.

Flóra proudly scrolled through the photos on her phone.

“This is the back terrace. From here, you can see the mountains, and from the front, of course, the ocean.”

“My God! It’s gorgeous!”