Claribel was five years old and had a condition no one could explain.
Whenever she fell asleep, her heart stopped beating, her skin turned cold like marble, and her mother would say she looked like a porcelain doll.
She would only wake up with caffeine—specifically, coffee-flavored candies.
Doctors couldn’t explain it, but those sweets brought her back every time.
Her father kept them in a small cloth pouch that hung by her bed, like an emergency kit.
Each time she closed her eyes, Claribel would find herself in a silent, empty city.
Everything was grey—crumbling buildings, dry trees, and not a single sound.
In the middle of those ruins sat a strange figure: tall, dark, with horns curving backward and hands made of shadow.
She was never afraid.
“Are you a monster?” she asked the first time she saw him.
“No. Some call me a demon,” he answered, his voice deep but kind.
“Are you a good demon or a bad one?”
“That depends on what you mean by good or bad.”
Claribel shrugged and sat down next to him.
“My mom says good people offer candy. Want one?”
The demon accepted. He didn’t eat, but held the candy between his fingers as if it were something precious.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I wait. My job is to keep company to those about to cross... to the other side.”
“Am I going to cross?”
“I don’t know. Not yet. For now, you just visit me.”
From that night on, whenever Claribel slept, she returned to that empty city—and to the demon. Each time, she offered him a coffee candy.
“Am I broken?” she whispered one night.
The demon watched her for a long moment, as if he wanted to tell her something important, something she wasn’t ready to hear.
“No. You’re just different. And different things... scare people sometimes. Especially in a world used to everything being the same.”
Claribel didn’t fully understand, but she nodded.
There was something in his words that made her feel a little calmer—like maybe being different didn’t mean she had to disappear.
She pulled a candy from her pocket, looking at it with a mix of nostalgia and tenderness, as if it were the last piece of the life she once had—before everything changed.
“Do you want one?” she asked, holding it out to him.
The demon raised an eyebrow and slowly took it.
“Thank you. Though… you know that if I eat it, you might wake up sooner, right?” he said, with a slight smile.
Claribel didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she looked at the demon with that rare kind of seriousness only children can have.
“I’m not in a hurry today,” she replied calmly.
It was as if she no longer feared the time she spent in that place.
She wasn’t afraid of waiting, or of the uncertainty that came with it.
The demon watched her silently.
This time, he said nothing. He simply stared at the candy in his hand, as if it held something more than flavor—like it held a truth he wasn’t ready to share.