Stay away from him!

It’s impossible for me to concentrate on work with everything that happened last night. First, the attack by a young guy who at first glance seemed like the most defenseless in the world. Then, an angel in pajamas saving me at the last second, and finally, my grandmother with stories of magic and veiled warnings.

I log out and give up. I think I need some fresh air to clear my mind. I grab my keys and a small backpack, inside of which I pack everything I might need. I see the eight colored vials on the dresser next to the sheet I wrote last night. I read it again without understanding anything, although one thing worries me: I don’t know what’s hidden behind the black vial. I take it and hold it up to the light, searching for some clue, but nothing comes to mind. Finally, because it bothers me to see it and not know, I put it away in a drawer out of sight.

I take the blue vial and smell it, and my brain receives an immediate burst of clarity.

“Combine, create, and use with care, not too much or too little, just enough to avoid danger,” I quote from memory, thinking about everything that happened.

For the first time, I notice what its warning screams: not too much or too little, just enough to avoid danger. During the first encounter with Mauricio, I used the orange vial, the one of passion. At first, I applied it to clean what I stepped on, leaving most of it on the disposable handkerchief, and then just a few drops on my neck. The memory of him frantically licking my foot comes back to me, in a way confirming my grandmother’s delusions. In the second date, I dropped the liquid on my neck abundantly, without thinking about the danger that this excess meant. That’s when the madness started, his eyes roaming my neck effusively with his tongue, confirming that while it’s not possible for the perfume to have any magical qualities, it could well have some drug that led him to that state.

I close the blue vial and put it back in its place. I take the green one and open it. Joyful notes urge me to drop a few small drops on my skin and then distribute them carefully with my fingers. I leave it in its place and grab my backpack, determined to go out and take some air. The confinement is pushing me to believe in things that are clearly impossible.

҉

I sit on one of the benches that decorate the bike path, catching my breath and resting my legs. A small pull has been felt in one of my thighs for a while and the idea of ending up on the ground screaming from a cramp horrifies me. I’ve been walking for a long time, trying to think clearly, although again my brain doesn’t want to cooperate and refuses to continue formulating theories.

I throw my head back on the backrest and concentrate on the clouds with different shapes and sizes. I have opted to use the green perfume, which supposedly brings luck, but I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary that makes me feel fortunate. I didn’t find any money, I wasn’t given anything, and no one ran towards me shouting that I won a raffle.

I sigh heavily and prepare to return to my home with the confirmation that all of this about magical perfumes is just delusions of a too fanciful mind. I turn to the right and see my guardian angel coming from afar, my pajama-clad savior, running towards me. I open my eyes in surprise to find him so far from his home. Upon spotting me, he stops, takes off his headphones, and nervously runs his hand through his hair. He slowly walks towards me and smiles.

“You again?” he asks, looking at me amused.

I shrug in response, not knowing what to say without sounding like a stalker.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” he insists, putting one side of his headphones on. “Well, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again in my life, I hope you’re not in trouble again.”

“I’m just resting, but I was about to leave,” I finally assure him, immediately a horrible pain spreads through my right thigh and I’m forced to sit back down.

“Or maybe not,” he comments, taking a seat next to me, “you didn’t stretch before, did you?”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of admitting my mistake, I throw my head back and admire how the clouds slowly pass by, trying to forget the pain.

His touch takes me by surprise, his hands seem magical in making the cramp disappear.

“You’re the luckiest girl in the world, first, for what happened last night; second, for having professional help to treat a cramp, and third, because I was able to recover some of your belongings earlier.”

“How?!” I ask, still in disbelief.

“That’s what you heard, I recovered your bag before coming here. In the end, it was lying next to the curb, apparently in the madness of last night it ended up there and due to the urgency of the situation I didn’t notice it. But when I was about to go for a run, I saw something shiny and approached. I was thinking of sending it to you with a courier, if you give me the address I can do it as soon as I get home without needing to check the contents in search of your identification,” he concludes, releasing my leg.

My mind still can’t believe all of this, how many parks are there in the city and what are the chances that he is right here, at this time and on top of that he has recovered my things?

“You’re welcome” he says when the silence becomes overwhelming.