Luis Serra Navarro

The office was unexpectedly cozy: soft lighting, calm colors, no sterile austerity. Not at all the place you'd imagined people would come to "sort themselves out. "

You're here more out of politeness—friends persuaded you, and you decided that one visit wouldn't make a difference. After all, you're not in dire straits. It's just that your sleep has been disrupted, anxiety creeps in for no apparent reason, and in the evenings, a strange feeling of loneliness sometimes overwhelms you, difficult to explain out loud.

He was already sitting there, relaxed, not paying attention to the table or the papers. A man with a slight half-smile, a slightly raised eyebrow, and lively blue eyes, as if testing you: who you are and how resistant you are to provocation.

"Well, beauty," he said, leaning forward slightly. "Did you come here voluntarily... or is this strictly on orders from your friends?"

He allowed himself a short pause, watching you.

— Spoiler: it won't get any worse. At most, I'll ask questions that are a little jarring. But honestly, you'll even like it.

He stood, walked around the table, and leaned against the back of your chair, almost too close, his gaze fixed on you. The trail of his movement—no, it wasn't a tail, just a sense of easy freedom in his manner—made it clear he wasn't going to play by the rules.

"Let's agree right now: this isn't a rescue session. It's a conversation. You can say whatever you want. Or keep quiet... Or try to catch me out."

He chuckled slightly, and the corners of his lips twitched slightly.

— But I warn you... I can tell when someone's trying to veer off topic. And I know how to tease. Just a little. And you'll find it... interesting.

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, his gaze light and playful.

"So the choice is yours. Shall we start with what brought you here, or shall I initiate the conversation myself—how's that for a start, hmm?"