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Paris, France. December 2034.

   The festive atmosphere was felt in every hallway of the university. The professors were happier and the students more relaxed. Soon, the short Christmas break would begin; some had plans to see their families, others a trip to the mountains to ski with friends. The less fortunate ones would dedicate themselves to working during the break.

   Nadine, of course, would visit her family. She worked cleaning houses on weekends, refrained from buying unimportant things, and went out sparingly, trying to spend as little money as possible so she could travel whenever the opportunity arose. Antonia, on the other hand, didn't have that problem. Her family had enough money to indulge in a few whims each week and still save, so she often encouraged her friend to have fun and relax. Nadine pushed herself too hard. She wanted to help her family with their debts, but she burned herself out, demanding too much from her mind, which affected her performance in all aspects of her life. That's where Antonia came in: the more distractions she had, the better she could focus. Although, truth be told, sometimes she struggled to prioritize. She was characterized by her impulsivity and sudden mood swings. She got irritated easily, which irritated her more than anything else.

   The perfect complement to Nadine.

   She could spend entire nights focused on building designs. Her fascination since childhood was those buildings that held the beauty of ancient architecture, but their functionality revolved around intelligent design, which complemented their surroundings, enriching and blending with nature, rather than destroying or overshadowing it like most modern architecture. It all began with an old movie her parents always made her watch, where an entire civilization lived inside a huge oaks called "Hometree". They made use of everything nature offered, giving much more in return. Thus, little Nadine would spend hours telling her family, who listened attentively even though it was too much information to remember, all the things she would build when she grew up.

   Nadine was in complete silence, drawing on her desk on the back of a photograph of her family. In the photograph, her beloved ones could be seen under the usual oak tree; she had taken it on her last day living there. Sitting on the wooden table was Irving, with his chubby cheeks and dark hair, gesturing theatrically with his hands. Joalí was seated on the bench in front of him, looking at him tenderly with her big eyes and her golden hair (inherited from her grandmother). Maureen was laughing out loud with her eyes closed, while Destan stood behind her, looking at her lovingly, and small wrinkles formed around his eyes, a product of age. Finally, there was Triana, the only one looking at the camera, with a small smile. She looked beautiful, with her long chocolate-colored hair and her slanted eyes. Due to their strong resemblance, Triana and Nadine seemed like different faces of the same coin.

   That day she didn't have class because her teacher was on a business trip. She didn't like changes in her routine much, so without needing to set an alarm, she woke up at the usual time, to have the same breakfast as always sitting in the sun like every morning. The hours she would usually spend in class, she spent doing her favorite thing: fantasy building designs. These were the ones she did just to relax, not for commercial purposes, as they were quite fanciful. Entire mansions mixed with seas and palm trees, cities in the trees connected by vine bridges, or hollow trunks with cozy studios.

   Her moment of concentration was interrupted when Antonia entered through the door, with her numerous layers of coats, having arrived from her last class of the day. She directed a faint smile at her friend, walking toward the edge of her bed where a sunbeam fell, and sat down there. Her hair rested on her shoulders, and in her usually gray eyes, a hint of green could be seen due to the weather.

   Nadine watched her in silence. The way her chest moved slowly as she breathed, her constant lip grimaces... It took her a moment to notice that her gaze was glassy. That's when she realized she had been staring at her, wordlessly, since she entered.

   An open secret, that's what it was. Nadine had been attracted to her friend from the moment they met. It didn't need to be said, she never tried to hide it either. However, the feeling wasn't mutual. Antonia adored her, but not in that way. Her only attraction had always been towards men. Both knew the situation. They had never explicitly talked about it because with a glance, they understood everything. Many mistook them for a couple at first, as they often found them in silence, looking at each other in such an intimate way that those around them would often lose track of the conversation when it happened.

   But the relationship worked, their friendship with a hint of unrequited love worked better than most. There was a silent formula that both respected at all times... but Antonia never liked routine, and she had followed it to the letter for too long.

Burgundy, France. February 2036.

   The tips of her fingers began to ache. She woke up with a start, screaming, as usual since she had embarked on her journey. She could barely move her hands; she felt the cold to his bones. The warehouse door was open. Everything was in semi-darkness.

   She jumped to her feet and closed the door. The sudden movement, the memory of the fight and the smell that the body emanated made her retch. The vomiting reflex was there, but her stomach was empty. The lifeless body of his attacker was on the ground, it seemed like days had passed since his death by the state, however, only a few hours had passed. The heat and humidity had accelerated the process, now it was paused, since it was as cold as inside a refrigerator. The humidity persisted.

   With difficulty she looked for a corner of the room where she could be far from the body, but at the same time far from the exit door. It was so cold that if you touched it you felt your skin stick to it slightly. In the chosen corner there were cardboard boxes full of uniforms of the workers who used to go to the train station every morning, when everything was normal.

   She improvised a blanket by tying sleeves and pants together to spend the night. In the process, she noticed that his prosthesis had a slight dent. They weren't easy things to break, but once a crack appeared, the whole structure weakened.

  She set aside a shirt from her makeshift blanket and began tearing it. With patience, covered her arm with strips of brown fabric. She liked the result; it provided a little more protection for the prosthesis while also concealing it. She knew it made her appear weak in the eyes of foolish people, who would likely try to take advantage of her.

   It was a long night, she couldn't sleep. A corpse was not the ideal companion for the night. She patiently waited until the sun was visible, and in a few seconds the window panes went from being frozen to being completely dry. That was her sign.

   She sat up, this time cautiously. She took a deep breath before going out into the infernal heat, she immediately regretted it: in just a minute the smell of death and vomit had noticeably intensified.

   Surprisingly motivated, she set off on the path following the train tracks. Straight to Paris. The same ones that had brought her here, desperate to find her family... just before the trains stopped running. Through her boots, she could feel the warmth of the wooden tracks, which in a past that seemed very distant took her back and forth between her two worlds: her family and Antonia.

Paris, France. December 2034.

   "Antonia..." Nadine said timidly, "You've been crying, haven't you?"

   The doubt in her voice made Antonia laugh.

   "Yes, true." She sighed sadly, then smiled with genuine joy and exclaimed: "But I've already cried, so, moving on!"

   The expression on Nadine's face betrayed her confusion. She wasn't the best at understanding emotions, and her friend was the most difficult to interpret, but she was also the only one she could understand with the simple act of seeking the answer in the color of her eyes. Upon this, she stood up, walked over to stand in front of her friend, and sat on the floor to look at her like children do when they don't understand: with their head slightly tilted to one side, their eyes wide open, and their eyebrows showing a sense of pity.

   Antonia responded as usual: with a small smile, her eyes slightly narrowed, somewhat mischievous, with a relaxed expression.

   This lasted a few minutes, until their feelings were in tune, and there was nothing more to discuss on the matter. Nadine had already inferred that her friend was single again due to her difficulty with routine. At that moment, as usual, they both closed their eyes, leaned in slightly until their foreheads touched. After that, they would usually talk animatedly and continue with their tasks as if nothing had happened. However, this time Antonia opened her eyes while lightly caressing her companion's cheek. She startled at such a romantically new gesture and opened her eyes. They looked at each other for a few seconds, then as if she had never broken an unspoken rule, Antonia exclaimed:

   "This year my parents are celebrating their anniversary, thirty years of marriage! So, I'll be free on Christmas, which sounds super depressing," she exclaimed as she reached for her notebook in her bag. Continuing cheerfully, she added, "I really don't understand how they came up with the idea of getting married on Christmas... They stood me up, girl!" She laughed, unaware that her friend was still sitting on the floor, silently observing her, once again puzzled.

   Overwhelmed, Nadine stood up and returned to her sketch, trying not to engage in the conversation.

   "Honestly, it doesn't bother me that much, it's just that I would have liked to have been told earlier. I could have said yes to the trips I was invited to or gone to..."

   "You can come with me and meet my family," interrupted Nadine, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind without much thought. That tended to happen to her when she found herself in a new situation.

   Silence, tension, and stares.

   "That sounds much better than going skiing."

   They looked at each other for a few seconds and smiled, the tension vanished.

Burgundy, France. February 2036.

   One week, just one week, and the provisions had run out. She rationed them as best she could, but the heat worked against her. She had to binge for three consecutive days, consuming as much as possible before it became inedible. By the fourth day, the provisions for the second week had already decomposed too much to consume, so she had disposed of the backpack. Now she only carried the bag.

   She walked along the tracks tirelessly, only stopping at night to take refuge from the frost. She hardly slept, as she used that time locked away to search every last drawer for food. Everything was in poor condition; she consumed the bare minimum and the least repulsive items she could find. This caused terrible stomach cramps. Her mouth was completely dry, she felt like she was dying, but she couldn't stop.

   On the eighth day, it was time to leave the tracks. She pulled out the map she had drawn before setting out, from her damp pocket, and studied it. Instead, she found that photograph of her family, where almost two years ago she had sketched that drawing. Distracted, she headed to the right, remembering it was the correct path. She didn't take her eyes off the photograph, but her foot got caught, twisting her ankle and causing a clumsy fall.

   A cry of pain escaped his throat. Her ankle hurt like hell, she couldn't get up and the metal from her tracks was burning her, sticking her clothes to her charred skin.

   After a few long minutes of struggling and cries of frustration, she managed to get away. Her sprained ankle wasn't as bad as it hurt, but she was very tired. The sounds of hunger and not feeling well mixed in her stomach, there was no water left in her body even to cry.

   The problem was the burn. With the fishing knife she brought with her, she tore the pants over her knee, quickly as a band-aid tore them off along with the occasional piece of skin. This time the tears did come out, but no sound, she had been left mute. A boy with fine dark hair was watching her, he looked only about five years old and was wearing round glasses. He was dirty, a little scrawny, but completely healthy... which was strange.

   After a few seconds, Nadine reacted.

   "Hello, little one, what's your name?" Silence. The child seemed exhausted and hungry. "My name is Nadine. Are you alone?... I won't hurt you, don't worry. I promise I want to help you."

   The child shook his head, and with the hand that wasn't holding his burgundy plush crab, he pointed to a figure that had gone unnoticed by Nadine.

   "Noyé*... " the little one finally said, with joy but also nervousness.

   Behind some bushes there was a drowned hunched over, hitting they foot with a rock. They were considerably healthy, wounds were superficial and seemed to be healing little by little, except for one on his genitals. They were not very tall and had quite long arms, it was not possible to identify they sex due to an infected wound in his crotch. They face was peaceful, with an expression that reminded Nadine that they was still human, behind that savagery.

   Terrified yet more focused than she had been throughout the entire journey, the young woman prepared the weapon, trying not to make a sound. She couldn't afford to fail, she had to help the little one. She was now in position, but she couldn't hold it for long; it was difficult with a plastic prosthetic arm. She released the safety, causing a dry click, and her enemy looked at her.

   As soon as they saw her, they began to run towards her violently, the little humanity that remained disappeared. When they were barely two meters away, Nadine fired. Her weapon recoiled back, hitting the girl's face. The drowned features were deformed and the body fell forward like a sack of potatoes.

   When the effect of the blow wore off and she was able to see clearly, she turned towards the little boy whose face was splattered with blood and with a terrified expression that made him look like a caricature.

   "Sweetheart, look at me. Here," Nadine said gently as she moved the boy's face away from the drowned person. With tears in her eyes, she exclaimed in the sweetest voice she could muster, "Let's start over. My name is Nadine. What's your name, noble knight?"

   The child seemed to forget what had happened and exclaimed proudly:

   "Wilfred, milady," the child said. And as if they were at a tea party, with the grace of a high-ranking gentleman, he continued, "That ugly thing wouldn't leave me alone. I was looking for my family while the town was budning, and they stopped playing with the fire and followed me everywhede. They smelled awful, worse than my little sister's diapers."

   They both laughed, but before she knew it, Nadine was crying uncontrollably. She was very tired, she had just killed in front of a poor child, she missed her family, she couldn't stop thinking about Antonia and she had lost her map. The child was only the straw that broke the camel's back, but the camel was already tired from before.

   Wilfred hugged her with his chubby little hands and told her that everything would be okay, that he was very brave and she was very strong. It felt like medicine, for body and soul. The burn no longer hurt, she no longer remembered the ankle incident, her stomach was quiet, and the humidity gave her a break for a few seconds. That child had lost everything except hope, somehow, the innocence of that child remained intact.

   Nadine thought about her journey, she was already halfway there. Another week and she would be in Paris. There, she would look for Antonia. She knew she was fine, she was safe—or at least, she tried to convince herself of that. Her chest ached when she thought of her, almost a year since she had lost her. More than a year since her first love had decided to cast her out of her life, throwing all her insecurities in her face to make sure she wouldn't come looking for her again.

   However, she never stopped loving her. Every day she felt her slipping further away, her loneliness more crushing, and her love for her greater... But what is grief, if not love persevering?

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*Noyé: drowned, in French.