I woke up in the guest room at Claudia's house with a strange feeling of disorientation. For a blessed moment, I couldn't remember anything. I was just there, in a comfortable bed, with sunlight streaming through the window.
Then it all came back. An avalanche of horrible memories.
Rafael. Sofia. The wedding. The resignation. Everything.
I looked at the clock. 2:37 PM. I had slept for almost twelve hours.
My body ached as if I had been run over. In a sense, I had been. Emotionally run over, destroyed, left bleeding in the gutter.
I got up with effort, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Horror. Disheveled hair, eyes swollen from crying, pale skin. I looked like a corpse.
Appropriate, because I felt dead inside.
In the bathroom, I found a note from Claudia on the sink:
