Along with the restless sound of the alarm clock, Rebeka opened her eyes and stretched her body out on the sheets of a cozy bed. Like every morning, she reached out her arm to turn off the phone, which, although it was charging, kept ringing persistently.

  “No matter that I use the melody of my favorite music, in the end, I always end up suffering as soon as I return to reality,” she thought, already somewhat more awake, realizing that she had no clothes on, not even the most intimate garments she always wore.

 Still lying face down on her bed, when she raised her head, Rebeka saw among her tousled hair the result of a restless night. A lump of pillows piled up to simulate the anatomy of a man’s body lay on the opposite side of the bed, next to the dolls, blankets, and other sheets. Protruding above the mound was something previously created by stockings rolled to the outside of a pen, which in turn remained inside a prophylactic, which had a knot at the opposite end.

  “Aaah! Another damn day. Can’t the invasive stress of routine knock more punctually at the door of my life?”

 Already more awake than before, Rebeka rolled over on her back and looked up at the ceiling of her room. It could be said that that bedroom was normal for a girl who was about to turn twenty-one. The place wasn’t too small, but it wasn’t spacious enough for her to have everything she wanted, which included must-haves for someone her age.

She wanted to have many more bookcases inside her room to place her favorite works—those that literally made her run, feel alive, experience feelings, and leave her boring life behind and that was now under her bed, piled up among the darkness and dust.

 The room had a small table with several drawers, located right next to the window. Attached to the wall, on top of the wood, was a round mirror with several lights that could be turned on and off. There were some makeup accessories, several notebooks, a laptop charging, and school supplies such as pencils, erasers, and markers. A desk chair was displayed in front of the table. On the other wall were the sliding doors of the storefront that were attached to a bookcase, making it look larger and more imposing. The bookcase carried many works of different titles, a few ornaments, and a couple of paperweights.

"Rebeka,” she said out loud to herself, “you are a twelfth grader, you have to be responsible; get up; you must not be late. Ahh! But I need to feel my male’s milk hitting the back of my throat or something! Why is it that nothing interesting happens in my life like it happens in books?!”

  With this thought in mind, Rebeka looked down at the dildo she had rustically fashioned the night before in an act of desperation. The room was submerged by gloom, and on the bed, all that existed were pillows, sheets, and stuffed animals piled up. That there was no flesh and blood, no breathing person to say good morning to her and make her feel appreciated, caused her melancholy.

   “Sleep may ease the sorrows of the heart, but I find myself suffering more in my thoughts than in my dreams,” she said to herself, with a bitter smile and eyes that were close to tears. “I want to sleep, but not for a little while... I want to go to sleep and never wake up! That’s all I ask for in compensation for my suffering. But who am I kidding? That’s not the solution. If I want to find something good, I’ll have to look for it. Life won’t give it to me, just like that.”

Since Rebeka was in the habit of sleeping on her left side, she settled down and stretched her right arm over the bundle of pillows. Although she was awake, she didn’t feel motivated enough to get up. No matter how many spins she gave to the day that was about to begin, she was back to laughing bitterly. A pressure in her chest seemed to take over her heart and twist the pit of her stomach. She hugged the lump that pretended to be a person tighter and tried to wash the loneliness from her body, but the attempt was in vain.

  “What’s the point of continuing to live a life as miserable as mine?” She asked herself with a weary attitude. “The pressure on my shoulders is constantly increasing. The demands that society places on me are much greater with each passing day, not to mention the discomforts of being a woman in a world like this. Having to follow social norms and behavioral patterns, being treated as less important or even irrelevant, keeping my distance from men, being polite and setting an example in everything, and not even receiving the same praise as someone who does half my job. Literally, fuck this whole world!”.

  Amidst the sadness that was turning into anger, she felt inside her legs a slight warmth. She had her head placed on the mound of pillows and sheets, and when she opened her eyes, she could see the rough imitation penis she had invented, which had small irregularities because the stuffing had shifted a little out of place. With her right hand, she held the item and brought it to her mouth to run her tongue over it and suck on it with desire, while with her left, she focused on fanning the sparks she felt in her most intimate area, intending to turn them into flame.

  As she sucked and absorbed the stuffed prophylactic, she slid her fingers between her legs.

“Something else can also soothe the sorrows of my heart. Mmm, how yummy this feeling is the horniness I’m feeling,” she thought. “But no, I have to get up. Masturbating right now will only make me feel worse later. On top of that, the body has to rest, and because of this very detour of my mind, I didn’t get the eight hours of sleep I need, so I don’t wake up in a bad mood like I am now. Also, once I start, I don’t know when I can finish. It’s getting harder and harder for me to be able to climax.”

“For example, if I was late for the first class and one of the instructors notices my fault, at that point, I would demand a disciplinary meeting with my manager as a warning before an expulsion. My poor mother already has a lot of problems. Had it not been for her begging on her knees to the principal, I would have already been expelled for an offense I didn’t even commit. At that point, even though I went before the principal and told him my side of the story, my voice went unheard. I bet it must feel good to sit in your office and look down on everything arrogantly with a god complex! Stupid old man who can’t even have a hard- time, you were decades overdue to retire, along with your surely tiny peanut. From your chair, you weren’t able to hear my words, just because they were petty excuses, but to my mother, you did listen when she kissed your shoes; you spoke to her from above, with all your superiority Aaah!”

“It’s better to leave the past behind; after all, it won’t happen again if I can help it. When circumstances cannot be changed, it is I who must adapt. I am left with the hope that, before long, when I turn twenty-one, I will get a job, leave school, earn a lot of money, and pay off my mother’s debts, those left by my father just before he went to prison. As a cashier in a supermarket or as a waitress in a restaurant, it might take me a few years, but once the family no longer gives money, my big day will come true! In the meantime, and back to the present, I better get up and get ready before I’m too late to catch the train to see him.”

  Rebeka took out what was in her mouth, turned over in bed, unplugged her cell phone, and, looking at the screen, pronounced the time that the little numbers marked: six fifteen in the morning.

  “One day more or one day less?” Along with this kind of thoughts, she slid to the edge of the bed and gathered, as best she could, her black hair while looking at her hardened nipples and bare thighs.

 Her uniform was neatly arranged on the small chair in front of the table, and without turning on any lights inside the room, she began to dress in front of the window with frayed curtains. She had always done it this way, whether she slept with clothes on or off, even knowing that, if she happened to turn on any light bulb without first closing the covers, people passing by on the street would witness an act of indecent exposure. Not that it bothered her much, but even if she was in her own home, it was a crime for the authorities to be naked if a sensitive public could see you.

After squeezing her two slender, slender legs through the holes in the black panties whose fabric could show through the color of her skin, she lifted her naked torso to pull the garment up. Then, grabbing the next piece she was about to put on, she glanced outside her house to see how countless individuals preferred to walk past on the sidewalk in front of a very particular dwelling they seemed to avoid.

  It was not because the paint on the house was cracked and worn or because the grass in the garden was dry, but because the people of the city moved from home to work and from work to home, day in and day out, non-stop. They preferred not to associate with the “killer house” that had been the talk of the town for the past decade and a half.

Rebeka took the bra, the same color as her panties, placed it in her stomach, then turned it over her torso, slipped her hands through the elastic straps, and tucked her breasts into the size ‘D’ cups. The bra didn’t show through like the panties did, as it was padded and firm enough to make sure a breast wouldn’t slip out in case she had to run. Then she put on the black stockings, which were so long they went past her knees. She proceeded with the saya - skirt - and finally put on the shirt with the student stamp on it.

“Who would say this is a city when, at first glance, it looks like an anthill?” she thought after making a sour grimace with her lips as she finished buttoning her blouse. As soon as she finished using the small bathroom on the side of her room, she brushed her teeth and sprayed a discreet perfume behind her ears and on each wrist. Finally, after combing her hair better, she fixed the strands of hair that covered her right eye with a beautiful blue barrette, which was in the shape of a discreet butterfly.

“I see it more like a colony of hoarder rats. None of them are content with what they have. Chasing happiness, they end up eating so as not to die and defecating so as not to explode into a thousand pieces. Why are people so blind? But who am I to talk like that if I have not yet the mastery to stop other people’s problems and my own opinion from affecting me as much as it does?”

  A second alarm went off, and the clock inside the telephone already read seven o’clock. Already dressed, well-perfumed, and groomed, Rebeka went downstairs and out the front door without even eating breakfast, she wouldn’t have time anyway.

After locking the worn door, she sighed deeply and thought, “This house clearly needs a man’s hand.”

  The place had an inconspicuous entrance, a fence about the height of an average person’s chest, two walls on either side, and the other extensions of the fence were covered with many unkempt vines. The hallway to the interior separated two gardens in which lush roses had bloomed. Evidently, the weeds had more life than the wilted ornamental plants. The entrance had a small doorway with two armchairs sturdy enough to stand outdoors, next to a glass table with an empty potted plant.

After passing through the hallway that divided the garden in two, Rebeka went out the second door that adjoined the street. She was carrying a backpack full of books, notebooks, documents, and other things a girl might need. Once past the gate, she walked in the direction of the train station and joined those heading to the same destination.

  The crowd of people continued to move quietly forward and completely ignored the presence of the newcomer. Black suits, formal clothes, dress shoes, some with hats, some with suitcases, and many with a steaming glass of coffee from which they took a sip from time to time.

  The light on the horizon grew brighter as the sun rose through the clouds. It looked imposing, cheerful, and haughty, as it did not apologize or cease to be what it was to the tired eyes that did not even deign to greet it.

   “No one says ‘good morning'; they don’t say hello or laugh. Still, the sun doesn’t stop shining, nor does time stand still,” thought Rebeka. “Is that the solution to living a happy life? Leave the hypocrisy that many know out of politeness and being selfish. To move forward without caring who you are or having to apologize for what you do or how you do it. It’s said so easily, but in practice, it isn’t.”

  From the crowd, you could see that there certainly wasn’t much of a social life; it was an individualistic atmosphere in an urban area. Of course, no one would say good morning, say hello, or laugh if it didn’t represent a benefit to them.

  “Is it even possible to go on living in such a lonely world where footsteps sound louder than words?” she wondered as she heard someone calling out to her.

  “President!!! Good morning!”

  They were the distinguishable words of a boy that stood out among the rain of footsteps. With them, the world became brighter, the colors intensified, and the smell became softer to Rebeka’s perception. 

  ”In a world where no one does anything unless it’s convenient and he wants to get something, he says good morning to me. Isn’t it obvious?” She thought, a heartbeat escaping her. “At least we’re past the stage where we just looked at each other in silence. It’s one thing to want something and resign yourself to not having it, it’s another thing to want something and fight for it. Before, he didn’t talk to me, now he shows more initiative, in his own way, to show me how much he likes me.”

  Boom-boom-boom, went Rebeka’s heart, fleeced inside her chest, after holding her breath so as to counteract the palpitations.

  “Well, the question is different if I have him... Who would have guessed that in such a crowded, colorless place, I would suddenly hear him calling me? My mother would say it’s love knocking at my door... I don’t think so,’ she said to herself while discreetly brushing her hair behind her ear. ‘Well, I resign myself to believing it. It’s not that it’s the first time we’ve met on the way to school, because I delayed my departure from the house so that this very casual event could take place, nor that the lump of sheets next to me wasn’t entirely based on him. But that he would call me incorrectly with such confidence and freedom makes me so irritated!”

 “It’s offensive that you still won’t call me by my name, Omar,” Rebeka said aloud, trying to hide the happiness she felt. “Pick up the pace; we’re minutes away from missing the train and being late!” she said in a bossy voice.

  “Aaah! When you’re in love, sometimes you don’t act your best, I know. Rebeka, you’re not an immature child anymore, you need to act better with him. However, what can I say in response to any of Omar’s questions? The public transportation system runs from three in the morning; besides, the school provides free breakfast to those who arrive before seven forty-five, while classes start at eight. Why, despite being the class president, do I take the train that leaves at seven-thirty with the intention of arriving ten minutes before class? He might be able to ask me.”

  Of course, he would never understand that, despite having the same uniforms, the class difference is obvious. How do I tell him that I am practically the teacher’s slave? No matter how early I arrive, they will have a homework assignment ready for me to fulfill. I also want to avoid the other students who tease me to the point of making me feel sick. On the other hand, telling my problems to the boy I love, venting and crying on his shoulder, would be unpleasant and pitiable. Besides, men are notorious for looking for easy and quick solutions to the problems they are told, without even getting to listen or put themselves in the place of the speaker. It’s not worth it.

   “It’s contradictory that they want to kick me out since I’m also the president. But that’s the point, it’s not that I’m an exemplary student from the beginning, but that the teachers want to demand things from me that I can’t give, until I make a mistake and they can throw me out, with the justification that I failed to meet their expectations.” 

 “Why don’t you just complain to the principal or say you’re overworked? If you let them treat you like that, it’s because you allow it.”

  “Isn’t it, Omar, things aren’t that simple? I can’t refuse to do the homework and assignments they send me, and if I did, the principal would surely show up with a voluntary resignation. The other teachers would hold my parents accountable for raising such a troubled, unreliable, and delinquent daughter. Moreover, I am sure they could expel me at any time and save themselves from any accusations against them for such an act of injustice.”

  Fearing that such questions would arise, Rebeka, with her mind cluttered with worries and a hungry stomach, walked on without bothering to continue any kind of conversation with the boy.

  One step after another, in her black high-heeled sneakers, she advanced over the bricks that made up a busy street. Only someone who was capable of paying attention to small details would notice that the girl’s steps were preceded by the soft tread of sneakers of the same color.

  “Nevertheless, I have a reason, a very good one. The mere fact that in all this time he tries to approach me without asking or inquiring into my problems makes him special and sets him apart from so many others. It is I, perhaps, that keeps him very far away with my aggressive attitude.”

  Calmer, Rebeka glanced sideways at the boy approaching her from behind.

   ‘It’s amusing the way he acts,’ she thought. ‘I can feel him stalking me through the crowd. Every morning, after he greets me, he moves forward and moves around, until, in fact, he ends up walking beside me, at my pace, so close together that we look like a couple. We have the academy clothes, so we match. If someone secretly took a picture of me with him, here, now, I’d be able to plaster it all over the walls of my room.’

  Reflecting on the situation, Rebeka trembled with happiness at being a “couple” although it was unofficial, and she was ready to deny it out loud a million times. With this excitement, she decided to turn her face just a little more than she usually did and saw something she wasn’t expecting.

   ‘Aaah, he’s carrying his right hand out of his pocket. Maybe today could be the day! If not, I’ll take the first step, but if, by coincidence, our hands come together, Aww!!!! My heart is racing....’

   Tac, tac, tac... Her footsteps sounded.

   With her hands even looser than usual, Rebeka swayed back and forth, not even worried about being prepared in case a gust of wind tried to lift her saya.

  ‘Just a brush... don’t worry, I’m going to pretend I didn’t feel it. Brushing my hand against yours this morning will brighten the rest of my days, I swear. Read my thoughts; read my body. Oh, despite your appearance and slacker attitude, I know you’re hailed as the craziest risk-taker of high school students... don’t make me keep waiting, be a man.’

Behind her, his footsteps sounded.

 Short, unkempt, spiky hair. Tall, lean, muscular body. He wore a tight white shirt, with the first two buttons loose and the collar turned up, something that hid little of his athletic physique. He wore a black belt with a simple buckle that matched his pants and shoes. Between his left hand, inside the corresponding pocket, and his body, he held a black cloth jacket.

    ‘Come to think of it, maybe that’s the hand he touches himself with when he’s alone. He uses his right hand to write, he must also use it to touch himself. On the other hand, I used my left-hand last night and this morning. It would be perfect, and at the same time, much more than a touch, it would be more like an indirect contact between him and me, between our sexes, just as it is special to breathe the same air as he does and to see what he sees. Ahh!’

  She needed to control herself not to run away, cover her face, and even almost die of embarrassment for having such a thought in the middle of a crowd. Rebeka justified herself with her episode of morning self-satisfaction that had to be cut off right after it started, so she decided to keep acting like she was a normal person, free of indecent thoughts. Pretending that she was still horny, desirous, and in need of someone who didn’t love anyone else but her was no easy task. At least not when the same hormones were going through her head, to the point where it was normal to think inappropriate thoughts. As weird as finding herself looking up at the sky hoping to see a penis-shaped cloud or not being able to help praising nature for providing mankind with cucumbers and carrots when she was at the grocery store and even looking inside the windows of houses with the desire to casually see two people having a moment of intimacy.

   ‘Who am I kidding? After all, if I’m not sleeping or thinking about morbid things, I can’t help but act negatively or feel depressed.’ As Rebeka was justifying her thoughts, the people intensified in number. Less cautious than before, those who felt rushed sought to position themselves at the front, and the number of those going in the opposite direction also increased.

 “The train bound for downtown will arrive in five minutes. Please stand behind the boarding line,” said the distant voice of an operator.

   ‘Time goes by fast when you’re fantasizing! I wish it would go by just as fast when I’m at school. Rebeka could see the horrified faces of those who were almost running with heavy footsteps and gasping breaths in the direction of the station as soon as they heard the loudspeaker speak.