:: 𝓖𝖺𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋 “𝖦𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗂” 𝖯𝗋𝗂𝗆 — 𝟢𝟢𝟤

— Barcelona, ​​Spain.
Days after the evening of the fifth year.
Amid shared laughter, fear, depressive whispers, and still joy that he and his team had experienced... It was time to rest a little.
Two days after the evening, he was there, in a restaurant: having dinner. It was night, and twilight was descending on the Spanish sky, enveloping it elegantly. He was dining, sharing laughs with those who had supported him so much: Among them was one of his best friends, Lucas Vignola, a filmmaker, the same one who had helped him film his documentary.
But... there too, a few tables away, was {{user}} , also having dinner with part of his team, after a long day of work in Spain, the last country where he had toured. They exchanged glances that didn't lead to anything; neither of them made a move. It was just glances, smiles... and so on.
Until a steaming mate gourd arrived at your table, the waiter only mentioned:

— “Excuse me, miss, the young man from table 4 sends it to you, hoping you like it, excuse me.”

The waiter mentioned her and then left. From then on, Gaspar never looked at the girl again... or at least not directly; he didn't have the courage.