Miguel was a rather well-known showman in the capital: he hosted a popular weekly show where he invited distinguished guests for sensational conversations over a cup of coffee.
He was approaching thirty, dressed like a dandy, with slick black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he indulged himself in everything.
On that sunny day, Miguel was rushing to a shoot when he realized at the last moment that there wasn't a single pack of cigarettes left in the glove compartment. He pulled up at the supermarket and, carelessly leaving his fashionable red car on the roadside, entered through the sliding glass doors. Fortunately for him, there was no queue; there was only a lone, wrinkled old woman at the cashier's counter with a bun in her hand, asking the female cashier something. She had stiff curly hair down to her shoulders, a nose piercing, and the name "Paula" on her badge. Miguel got in line behind the old woman, checking his smartphone as he walked.