I was disoriented, not knowing why I had spent so much time in a clothing warehouse or why the sun felt so bright to my eyes. It felt like summer but the decor made me think of winter instead.

I spent days looking at designer clothes with brand names I had never heard of before and of sizes I could never be able to wear. I moved around the floor wearing roller-blades, making it easier to explore.

I looked at the clock and knew I had to be somewhere else, it was getting late and didn’t want the sunset to get me while still on the way. They would be mad if that happened.

I rolled to the edge of the warehouse where the entrance was located and took off the blades while onlookers paid little to no attention to the figure on the floor struggling to put on a pair of shoes.

“You can’t be here”, someone said, hurrying me out of the door.

I was walking down Clavijero street when I noticed my laces were still untied, put down my messenger bag for a second in order to tie them properly and when I looked back the bag was gone. I saw two strangers sitting at the top of a raise on the concrete, snickering. There was a big tree besides us, the most likely reason for the sidewalk to be in this state.

I walked around the raised part of the street, with the eyes of the strangers tracking my every movement. I picked up my bag. I didn’t know how it was that it had gotten there, but had a couple of ideas. I patted some of the dirt away and looked at the strangers, their faces turning into a frown.

I started walking down the street again, they followed. I walked faster, and so did they. No one else was on the street, and cars going the other way didn’t seem to mind us at all.

I started running down Clavijero, like so many times in the past. One of them slipped and fell. The street can catch off-guard even to the most experienced locals.

I reached the intersection with Juarez and screamed “they’re the ones!”, and suddenly two people started chasing the chasers.

“We’ll take care of them, but you have to meet with the others” a man dressed in uniform told me.

“My roller-blades!”, I said, and started walking back to the warehouse, taking a different street that, if memory served, also connected with Clavijero.

But it didn’t.

“Wasn’t there a road right here”, I asked to one of the neighbors while pointing towards a school building I didn’t remember at all. “It’s been years since that road was closed”.

The hues of orange illuminating the street behind me, and the darkness engulfing the street in front of me, made me realize how late I was already. I went downhill, looking over my shoulder every couple of steps, but no one followed.

“Almost late, as always” the guard greeted me. “Almost”, I replied.

After a few hours of work, we gathered at the main office to talk about what else we had to do, when someone started kicking at the door.

I opened the door as the woman at the other side started taking flight to lounge another kick. I recognized her immediately.

“EMIKO?!?!”

“Why are you being so chummy with her, asshole?”

“EMIKO-CHAN!?!?”

“That’s not any better!”

I looked at Emiko, her face looking confused, probably surprised to see someone she couldn’t place, but somehow knew of her. Dumbfounded enough to stop her kicking motion, which I was grateful for.

“Have we met?”

“You have, mom. You spent a whole night drinking with him and talking about god knows what” said a voice I knew too well, while she got between the two of us in the distance reserved for a kick that didn’t happen. Her bangs filling my point of view.

“Oh yes! Whatsyourname-san! What are you doing here?”, Emiko said over Hana’s shoulder.

I have thought of this moment, of this reunion, for a long time. Countless scenarios, countless results.

We embraced, like we had done so many times in the past.

“It’s been so long, thought I’d never see you again”, I said.

Emiko mumbled something I couldn’t comprehend.

And then everything faded away.