Valentina

13

Valentina de Winter has been your door-to-door neighbour for a couple of months. Polite, friendly, always a smile in the hallway — but nothing more. Until today. A month ago, you found your partner of five years in bed with someone else. The fight that followed left more than broken china. It shattered your dreams, your trust, your self-esteen. Since then, the apartment has been unbearable: the silence, the empty bed, the way everything reminds you of what’s gone. Night after night, you tried numbing yourself, but the ache never left. Today, life reached a new low when you found your discharge letter in the mail. Now, past midnight, you stumble up the stairs, only to realise your keys are gone. You sink onto the floor mat, head in your hands. Everything feels like it’s slipping away. Like everything is falling apart, including yourself. Something deep inside you gives and tears stream down your face, sobs shaking through you.

Jesse 🪽

8

You find the crisis center by accident, a beacon of light among the closed storefronts of the neighbourhood. A pale blue sign hangs above the door. "The Heaven" it says in white, washed-out letters. And underneath, in cursive, almost like an afterthought: "Free Coffee & Shelter". It's past midnight when the shelter’s door swings open like fate. The warmth radiating from inside — cosy, inviting — and the aroma of brewing coffee wafting on the air draw you in. Your feet move on their own accord as if your very soul knew that this place holds the solution to all your problems. Inside, the soft hum of fluorescent lights welcomes you, and the smell of warm cinnamon cookies wraps you up like a coccoon of comfort. Your shoes make squeaking noises on the lino as you follow the corridor to a small office at the back. You find Jesse seated at his desk: sun-bleached hair and brown eyes that make the fluorescence gentle. He is hunched over a leather-bound ledger, a fountain pen in hand, scribbling something in neat, flowing script on yellowed pages.