Chapter 2

Meanwhile, Samantha falls asleep, the image of Zeyd’s face lingering at the edge of her consciousness. The weight of the day, the anxieties, and the unsettling dream images coalesce into a vivid, disturbing nightmare. Somewhere, the year 2000…

It’s late, a bitterly cold winter’s evening. A small boy, no older than seven, wanders the icy streets of Zenica. He’s barefoot, his tiny footprints disappearing into the freshly fallen snow. He clutches a worn-out, black coat—his only possession—tightly. The memory of losing his oversized hand-me-down shoes while running from snarling dogs still echoes in his mind.

He stands on a busy street corner, his stomach gnawing with hunger, his body trembling with cold. Snowflakes fall on his long, dark hair, framing eyes that, despite his misery, hold a spark of hope. He’s strikingly handsome, a cruel irony against his desperate situation. He tries to beg, his voice thin and reedy.

“Alms! Alms, please, give me a piece of bread.”

People hurry past, their faces averted. His small hands are numb. He pulls his coat tighter, but the cold seeps into his bones. A chilling emptiness spreads through him.

He can bear it no longer. He walks towards overflowing trash cans, hoping for scraps. He finds a discarded plastic bag—remnants of a half-eaten pastry—a meager offering. He sits on the icy street and eats, the taste of stale sweetness a bittersweet relief.

Across the street, a girl, around eleven or twelve, stands before a fast-food restaurant. She’s pretty, her gaze drawn to the small figure huddled on the opposite sidewalk. For hours, she watches him, pity and fascination in her eyes. Seeing him eat from the garbage, she feels a pang of sympathy, a sharp stab of empathy. She approaches, her steps hesitant, settling beside him, her heart aching for his plight.

The little boy shrinks back, his eyes wary. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Nothing,” she replies, her voice soft. “I know you’re hungry. I want to buy you something to eat.” A lump forms in her throat.

She takes him to the fast-food place, ordering a warm meal. He stares at the food, his hunger evident, but hesitation lingers.

“I have no money to pay,” he whispers, clutching the remaining pastry.

“You don’t have to pay,” she says gently. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his small hand trembling as he takes the food.

He eats outside, the steam from the food momentarily warming his face. As she prepares to leave, he calls out, "Wait! What is your name?"

“I’m Esmeralda,” she says, her eyes darting around nervously. “I… I have to go. My cousins… they’ll be angry if I’m late.” A shadow of fear crosses her face.

He follows her as she crosses the street. She quickens her pace, heading towards a bus stop. As she reaches the bus, she turns, seeing him still trailing behind. She hesitates, then walks back to him.

“Don’t worry,” she says, a small smile gracing her lips. “I’ll be back. Wait for me here, in front of the fast-food place, at the same time and day every week. I promise.” She touches his thin shoulders.

“Okay,” he whispers, his eyes shining with a flicker of hope.

They part ways, Esmeralda boarding the bus, the little boy left alone in the snowy streets. That night, he finds shelter under a footbridge, the cold a constant companion.

Emeralda arrives at her aunt’s house, a place where harsh words and physical abuse are commonplace. Her aunt, Selma, greets her with a sharp reprimand and a stinging slap. “Where have you been, Esmeralda?! Cook dinner!”

Esmeralda retreats to the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. The memories flood back: her parents' divorce, her grandparents' tragic death, her abandonment, the constant fear and uncertainty that have shaped her young life.

Buzzzz! Ringgg! Tinggg! A jarring sound—three alarm clocks—rips Samantha from her sleep. The lingering chill of the dream clings to her. She feels a familiar unease, a sense of vulnerability echoing the boy’s plight. The dream, a recurring nightmare, fades into the harsh reality of her alarm clocks: a vintage alarm clock, a digital clock, and her cell phone. The memory of the dream, however, remains a dull ache beneath the surface of her consciousness.

She gets a towel and takes a bath, the hot water a stark contrast to the lingering chill of her dream. In a few minutes, she is ready to go to work, but the dream’s images still linger, subtly influencing her actions.

She grabs her backpack and phone and rushes out of the apartment to catch the company shuttle at 3:00 AM. It’s Tuesday now. On the ride, she decides to read her missed messages.

Most are from family and friends, with a few from Zeyd. She replies to her family and friends, but hesitates when she reaches Zeyd’s messages. The dream’s lingering sense of vulnerability and the memory of Esmeralda’s kindness intertwine, creating a complex mix of emotions. She almost deletes the conversation, but something stops her. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s a flicker of hope, or perhaps it’s simply the lingering effect of the dream. But mostly, it’s a weariness that settles over her, a deep-seated exhaustion with the uncertainty of Zeyd’s presence in her life. She decides she needs to end this; she doesn’t want to communicate with him anymore.

She attempts to delete the conversation, but the messenger app freezes. When it restarts, Zeyd’s chat head opens instead. Simultaneously, new messages arrive from friends back home, opening additional chat heads. Now three chat heads are open. Her friends simply say "Hello." Samantha begins typing "Hi, how are you?", intending to send it to one of her friends. The lingering frustration and weariness from her decision to end contact with Zeyd clouds her focus. Without realizing it, she selects Zeyd’s chat head and sends the message.

A gasp escaped her lips as she realized her mistake. Her chest tightens with a rush of frustration and self-reproach. She frantically tries to cancel the message, but it’s too late. The message is sent. She feels a surge of immediate regret, intensified by the lingering unease from her dream. The shuttle continues its journey, carrying her towards work and leaving her to grapple with the consequences of her accidental message and the lingering impact of her dream.