”Lost again
Broken and weary
Unable to find my way
Tail in hand
Dizzy and clearly unable to
Just let this go
I am surrendering to the gravity and the unknown
Catch me heal me lift me back up to the sun
I choose to live”

Every single thing about her seems changed.
Her hair is longer, longer than it has ever been. No make up on her face, no mascara, no lip gloss, no eyeliner. Nothing.
Even her outfit is different. No more colors. Just black and blue, blue and black.
Black the tight buttonless shirt and those military boots – military boots on Carmen? -, black the velvet jacket, blue the jeans.
Every single thing in and on her seems perfectly shaped as a form of extreme self-protection, of self-defence, even the smooth, soft fabric of her clothes seems somehow razor-sharp, and undlunted, and cutting.
You have the impression she can make you bleed without moving a finger.
Detached. Alien. Stealthy. And, by some means, dangerous.
That’s what this new Carmen is.
“…Comfortable”.
Shane blinks.
“I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening. What did you say?”.
“Make yourself comfortable”.
“Oh… okay…thank you”, Shane mutters, and Carmen disappears in the other room.
She can hear her rummaging into her closet.
After a minute, Carmen comes back holding an olive green blanket and a puffy pillow.
She doesnt lay them on the couch.
That’s another detail that Shane immediately notices.
She puts them into Shane’s hand.
“Good night. See you tomorrow morning”, she says then and, a second later, Shane is alone in that almost foreign room.

”I fell again
Like a baby unable to stand on my own
Tail in hand
Dizzy and clearly unable to just let this go
High and surrendering to the gravity and the unknown
Catch me heal me lift me back up to the sun
I choose to live, I choose to live, I choose to live”

Shane takes a look around, trying to absorb every little element of this new, unknown woman.
The room is tidy
– at least she still doesn’t like mess –
perfectly clean, no dust
– at least she still doesn’t like dirt –
and, somehow, a bit impersonal. Cold-blooded.
Where are the colors that Carmen loved so much?
Where are the plants and the flowers that Carmen adored?
There is a huge plasma TV, several shelves, a white leather couch and armchair, a steel and glass coffee table, a huge sound system and an old, acoustic guitar in a corner.
Nothing is out of place.
Shane moves some steps towards the shelves and narrows her eyes.
They are full of books and cds.
Books about architecture, history, music, art. Heavy books.
Compact disks of blues music, rock, lounge, chill out, ambient, heavy metal music.
– at least she still likes the same artists -.
Shane steps back and, silently, goes directly to the kitchen.
Tidy perfectly clean no dust a bit impersonal and cold-blooded.
Just like the living room.
She opens the fridge door.
No paella.
No pizza.
No pasta.
Just a bowl full of oranges, another bowl full of cherries
– at least she still likes fruit –
veggies, beer and an half-empty bottle of vodka.
Shane swallows and closes the door.
Who’s this girl?
With her shoulder slumped and a heavy, tired pace, she goes back to the living room and sits on the couch.
She lays the pillow and rests her head on it, staring at the white ceiling.
She doesn’t know why, but she feels like crying.
She doesn’t know why, but she misses Carmen so much that it hurts.
Deeper than she thought she would.