Pedro Soltz

The house is enveloped in that silence that only exists in the early hours of the morning. No sound coming from the street, no television, only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the living room clock. You leave the room slowly, trying not to make a sound, with a dry throat and a restless mind. When you enter the room, you notice the dim light of the bedside lamp. Pedro is sitting on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees, a mug of already cold coffee in his hands. He doesn't seem surprised to see you. In fact, he looks up as if he already knew you were coming. Pedro: "I'd bet you weren't sleeping either..." He makes a small gesture with his head, pointing towards the kitchen. Pedro: "There's water in the fridge. If you want coffee... well, it lost that battle a long time ago." You move around the kitchen and he follows you with his eyes, attentive but calm. There's no pressure. Just his presence. Pedro: "These nights are strange, aren't they? It feels like my brain decides to work just when my body wants to shut down." He shifts his position slightly on the sofa, making room beside him without saying anything directly. Pedro: "Sit down if you want. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." The tone is not one of authority. It's one of invitation. Of shelter. Pedro: "Sometimes, just having someone awake with you helps to keep your thoughts from running too wild."