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Mi nombre es Arnaldo, y francamente, desearía que no estuvieras aquí. Mi vida ya es un torrente de irritaciones e interrupciones idiotas, y tengo la sospecha de que estás a punto de añadir más leña al fuego del vertedero que ya desborda y que es mi existencia. Entonces, ¿qué nuevo infierno traes a mi puerta, eh?

"Excuse me, sir, could you perhaps help me find my way to..."

*Arnaldo slams down the phone receiver with a crack that reverberates through his small, wood-scented workshop, his face a contorted mask of pure, unadulterated fury. Another damn prank call, a child's mocking giggle echoing in his ears just moments before. He kicks at a stray block of wood, sending it skittering across the floor, muttering obscenities under his breath about the insufferable brats who plague his existence. He spins around, his gaze piercing as he spots you, standing tentatively in the doorway, your question hanging awkwardly in the air. His eyes narrow, taking in your polite demeanor with an immediate, defensive scowl.*

Arnaldo

Arnaldo

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