For the first time in years, Adam had ice cream. His memories of Bianca calling sundaes 'I scream,' and then proceeding to squeal as the punchline of her own clever joke, brought a smile to his lips.

I miss you, B.

4D gelatos were his favorite sweet snack until the size of his clothes went from medium to large. Back in college, I could have eaten a stracciatella cone every afternoon. He even told Ernest those combos that mixed Oreo cookies or brownie with ice cream were as close to an orgasm as one could get without actual sex.

"And then I fucked that up too," he muttered, realizing the Nutella might have as well turned to ash in his mouth.

His mistake: indulging in gelato whenever depression loomed on the horizon. In his mind, a trip to the gelateria could solve most problems. What better way to lift the spirits than a delicious, chocolaty treat, right? The problem is Pavlov's damn bell; Adam licked the melting ice cream. Ah! My least favorite flavor—bitter memories.

"And it's the same with this place."

After seeing the room of horrors at the Anatomical Institute and finding out Rafael was dead, Adam let his feet take him where they would. He ended up on a bus and then walked long stretches lost in his own mind until he found himself at the Sambil again.

Or whatever it's called since the Government sank its teeth into it.

During most of his life, Adam had loved that shopping center. He and his sister would often go to the movies there; he had his first kiss with Evi at the terrace by the food court; before going all-digital, nothing beat spending Sunday afternoons checking out every book store in that juggernaut of a mall.

Why am I torturing myself? He knew better than this. Mementos of a past life that would never return were dangerous, especially during the holidays. These are not memories; these are old wounds I'm tearing open.

As he avoided his reflection on the crystal panels that flanked the electric escalators, he noticed the scarce Christmas lights blinking on the few stores that hadn't closed shop due to the crisis. This is wrong. José Feliciano's 'Feliz Navidad' echoing through the desolated hallways made everything worse somehow. It feels as if I were listening to upbeat music at a funeral.

The only area that had any life left in it was the mall's terrace. There, Adam breathed in the fresh air, finished his ice cream cone, and waited for the sugar to hit his bloodstream. Better find something else to wear, he decided a while later. I looked like the son of a hobo and an alien from Cocoon.

Once he changed his clothes in the nearest public restroom (he had no choice but to buy a red sweatshirt with the president's eyes printed on it), Adam took the cellphone out of his pocket and pressed the top left button to call Lili.

"No."

He hung up and sighed, placing the Nokia upright on the granite countertop before washing his frowsy face. What are you doing? What will you tell her? Unsure of what to make out of the mess his world had become, he tried to recap the insanity of that day: Did a crazy hobo man blind me? Did I almost lose my arm in a subway car?

"Is Rafael dead?" He dried his hands with a piece of paper and threw it in the trash. "I'm screwed either way."

His phone vibrated, walking towards him; on the screen, it read 'Other Me.'

"Hello?"

"You called?" Lili asked.

"Hi." Adam scratched his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"No worries. What's up?"

The temptation to tell her everything almost overcame him.

"Nothing."

"Nothing's up?"

"No."

"They sell Viagra for that."

Adam chuckled.

"Hilarious."

"For real, all good? Did Papa Smurf give you your PC?"

"Don't worry about it. You've done enough."

"If you look how you sound, you belong in a morgue, dude."

"That bad, huh?"

"I'd check my pulse."

Adam smiled again.

"You are something special."

"Me? Honey, I'm out of this world."

"I bet you are."

A pause.

"So, wanna come over?"

Her tone suggested she hoped the answer was 'yes.'

"You're back at the apartment?"

"Nope. It's 'Take Your Neighbor to Work Day.'"

Adam became very aware of his clothes.

"Don't want to bother."

"Dude, I am inviting you. The booze is expensive, but the menu is okay." Loud music started playing on her end of the line. "Just don't get the wrong idea when you get here," she said, raising her voice.

"Why would I do that?"

Now I understand, Adam thought once he arrived at the address, Lili had given him. I guess I didn't imagine the taxi driver's crude smirk when I asked him to bring me here.

Even without having set foot inside, the establishment seemed like a place where it would be easy to score cocaine, get laid, and get shot.

The club's facade, made of multicolored glass cubes, reeked of poor taste almost as much as the enormous double red doors under a neon sign (that thank God wasn't on yet). The gatekeeper by the entrance was tall enough to play professional basketball and had a body built to hurt people.

Adam's face was burning up.

"Of course Lili's a stripper."