Episode 1

Clara

I wake up to the incessant honking and the murmur of the awakening city, a chaotic symphony dragging me out of my dreams. The aroma of fresh coffee and warm bread invades my room, but despite the hunger that makes my stomach rumble, I can't even think about food. The expectation of another day without direction tightens my chest, a weight that only grows heavier.

The firm knock on the door breaks my reverie. It's my mother, Lucia, her voice resonating with familiar authority:

"Clara, don't forget to take my lunch to the office today! Mr. Lincon is coming back from vacation today, and I want to be helpful. Get up now. Breakfast is on the table. And don't be late!"

The sound of her hurried steps echoes down the hallway as I burrow under the covers, hiding my face. I answer, my voice still drowsy:

"I love you too, Mom."

She walks away, and silence returns for a moment, allowing me to stare at the ceiling of my room, covered in posters and mementos of an adolescence I've barely begun to leave behind. At just 18 years old, I finished high school, but the freedom I longed for didn't bring a purpose with it.

A wave of frustration washes over me. Looking around, I realize I'm stuck in a repetitive cycle: wake up, help my mom, and spend my days not knowing where to go. The idea of going to college seems not only distant but tedious, like a routine I can't even imagine.

I take a deep breath and reluctantly get out of bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. The soft morning light enters through the window, illuminating the chaos of my room, revealing scattered clothes, unfinished books, and shattered dreams.

A cup of coffee and a warm roll await me, but I feel that more than food, I need a plan. A purpose. A path that makes me feel alive, not just surviving another day.

And so I head to the bathroom, yawning. As I enter, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My brown hair is messy, the pink streak I recently dyed shining under the light. A small rebellion amidst the monotony.

Without further ado, I head to the shower, turning on the hot water. Steam begins to rise, and I feel the tension in my shoulders slowly dissolve. As the water flows down, I close my eyes and allow the routine to become my own moment. For a few moments, I forget about the pressure, the empty days, and the expectations. It's just me, the water, and the hope that something will change.

With a slightly lighter heart, I step out of the shower, determined to face the day. As soon as I enter the room again, wrapped in the towel, my cell phone vibrates on the table, flashing. I see on the screen that it's Bruna, my friend who is studying abroad. I put it on speakerphone as I walk to the closet and answer.

📱CALL ON

"Hey, jerk," I say, smiling.

"Geez! I love you too, jerk," Bruna replies, her voice full of joy.

As I rummage through something comfortable to wear, practically stepping inside the closet, I say out loud:

"But hey, girl, how's college going?"

She smiles even wider, the excitement evident in her voice:

"It's amazing! I've already met some cute guys here. You're the only one missing, silly... but there you are, playing the rebellious girl."

I smile as I pick out a gray T-shirt and put it on. I answer, trying not to let the frustration show:

"I really don't want to go to college, Bruna. I feel like it's not for me. I want something more, you know? Something I may not even know what it is yet. But it's definitely not being stuck in these boring services."

Her voice resonates, more serious now:

"I know, Clara. But girl, you won't be young forever. And you'll need money to survive; you can't depend on your parents forever."

I think about her words as I lean on the closet door. The truth is, the future scares me. The desire for freedom clashes with the harsh reality of adult life. The dilemma forms in my mind: the need for security versus the search for purpose.

"You're right," I admit, feeling the pressure building. "But I can't see myself in a classroom, just following rules and obligations. I need to find something that makes my heart beat faster."

"Then do something, Clara! Find an internship, an activity that excites you! You need to experiment, discover what you really like," suggests Bruna, the concern in her voice evident.

I look out the window, watching the city pulsate outside, full of possibilities. Maybe I should step out of my comfort zone. The idea begins to germinate in my mind.

"I'll think about it, girl. Thanks for reminding me that I don't need to have all the answers right now."

"Always here for you, jerk! And don't forget to tell me about your plans!" she says, laughing.

📱CALL OFF

I hang up the call, feeling a mixture of anxiety and hope. Then I put on some random jeans and go downstairs for breakfast. The smell of fresh coffee greets me in the kitchen, and I sit down at the table, savoring a warm roll as my mind still dances between Bruna's words and the pressure of the day.

After eating, I get up and start tidying up the house. The chores become almost automatic: I put the dishes in the sink, fluff the couch cushions, and organize a few scattered items. The messy environment reflects my inner state, and as I organize, I feel a lightness emerge. Sometimes, small gestures are what we need to start clearing our minds.

Later, I go back to the kitchen to prepare my mother's lunch. The routine of cooking is familiar and comforting. I pick up ingredients, chopping vegetables and seasoning, almost as if the act of cooking gives me a moment of meditation.

While I stir the pan, I can't help but think about what Bruna said. I need to find something that makes me feel alive. With lunch ready, I put everything in a container and get ready to take it to the office.

Before leaving, I realize I'm not wearing a bra, one of the things I really hate. Who was the genius who invented this? Seriously, for me, it's torture. I feel uncomfortable wearing it.

"You know what, I'm going braless, screw it!" I say to myself, determined.

With this slight rebellion, I leave the house, grab my bike, and after closing the gate, I dive into the chaotic movement of the city. The fresh wind envelops me as I pedal, and the adrenaline of the moment helps to dissipate some of the anxiety.

The horns, the hurrying people, and the busy shops create an urban symphony that energizes me. Each pedal stroke is like a small cry of freedom, and for a moment, I forget about the worries and uncertainty of the future.

As I head towards the company where my mother works, I feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. The city, with all its colors and sounds, seems full of possibilities, and maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to open up to them.

I arrive at the company and park my bike, looking up at the imposing building that houses my mother's workdays. Lunch container in hand, I take a deep breath and walk in.

Since my mother has already explained where her office is, I head towards the elevator. As I approach, I see the doors closing.

"Hey, wait for me!" I shout, as if the elevator could hear me.

On impulse, I throw myself through the gap, squeezing through the opening before it closes completely. The problem is, the elevator is already going up, and I feel like I'm in one of those movie scenes, where the dramatic music plays in the background, while I literally fall on top of someone.

His large, firm hands catch me, and the scent of his cologne invades my nose, fresh and intriguing. I look up and meet his eyes, which are almost golden. I gulp, trying to process what's happening.

Mercy. It's the only thing my neurons can grasp in the face of this man's extraordinary beauty. He stares at me with an intensity that makes my heart race, and for a moment, I feel naked, vulnerable under his penetrating gaze.

Then I realize that he's still holding me, and, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately for me, his large hands are cupping my breasts, on the very day I decided to go braless. What a beautiful irony of fate, isn't it?

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