Chapter 1 - part I

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To my Brazilian readers for

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To my Brazilian readers for

believing in me. You made

my dream possible.

Thank you.


I

I get into the apartment and do my routine, checking every room. Everything seems to be in its place.

Where's Sam?

He said his flight would land at 4 p.m. I take my smartphone out of my pocket and get on WhatsApp to text him. Wow, it's 7 p.m. already!

"Hi, stranger! Are you lost? I'm hungry. Where's the burrito u promised me?"

I look for something to eat until he texts me back. - My fridge is empty, for a change. I'm a good cook, but as I live by myself, cooking isn't inspiring. - So I order food for delivery, and I also buy frozen food to survive. Two minutes later, Sam answers.

"I'm at the market, somebody forgot to go shopping. Left my suitcase in the blue room."

"I saw it. Gonna open it to check if there's any gift for me."

"Ok. Just be careful of the anaconda I got in my hand baggage."

At that moment, I see myself standing in the kitchen with a big smile on my face. A true smile. When was the last time I smiled this way? Sam makes me feel really good, I always knew it, but I had forgotten that feeling.

I decide to take a shower, so I take my clothes off, and I walk to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I dry myself off in front of a big mirror beside the sink. When wet, my hair seems more blonde than ginger, and I like it. But even my grandparents agree about that. My grandpa says my hair is reddish brown like his family, and my grandma says it's blond like hers. Since I had lost my parents, I was raised by grandparents. My mother died just after I was born, and my father suffered a car accident. He fell asleep at the wheel, and the car pulled out of the road when I was nine. Before that, I remember when my father used to read to me. He did that a lot, and I loved the sound of his voice. My favorite books were the Grimm brothers' ones. He read them hundreds of times until my ears bleed.

In the mirror, I see in the reflection his green eyes and my mother's tiny nose. Each day I look even more like her from what I see in the pictures. The white skin is my grandpa's, and my small hands are just like my grandma's. Then, I look at the scars. A small and deep one on the hip and another on the ribs. They are not inherited from anyone. They are mine. I turn my eyes away from the mirror, and I finish drying off.

Sam must be on his way.

Sam must be on his way

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