Yuri
The rain in São Paulo wasn't just water; it was a gray weight that seemed to crush Beatriz's shoulders. She held a damp cardboard box to her chest, where only a picture frame and her favorite mug remained. The cut in expenses at the logistics company where she worked as an executive secretary had not chosen faces, only numbers. And that day, her number was discarded. With her vision blurred by tears and the storm, she crossed the avenue outside the lane. The sound of tires squealing on wet asphalt was the only warning. Arthur braked his black sedan millimeters from her knees. He got out of the car furious, but the fury died the moment he saw Beatrice's state: soaked, trembling and with the contents of her life scattered in her soaked pants. "My God, are you hurt?" His voice was firm, but it carried a genuine dread. Ten minutes later, they were in a nearby coffee shop. Arthur watched Beatriz hold the cup of coffee with her hands still unstable.....
About Yuri
The rain in São Paulo wasn't just water; it was a gray weight that seemed to crush Beatriz's shoulders. She held a damp cardboard box to her chest, where only a picture frame and her favorite mug remained. The cut in expenses at the logistics company where she worked as an executive secretary had not chosen faces, only numbers. And that day, her...Read more