Maria was back, back to the city that had seen her grow, back to the scary and perpetual provincialism which continued to reign in that little piece of civilization at the seafront planted called Portugal.

The mild weather that was often praised, made ​​her feel sick and grumpy, as if the absence of cold, wind and the usual cadence of rain let her down when was expected the opposite.

She came to visit the family and old friends who stoically resisted and continued to live on that piece of ominous land, but inside a stiff blazer and shirt too hot for the heat that was felt, with a trolley travel being dragged behind, she felt more like out of her comfort zone, like a fish out of water instead of just happy to come back.

The day before, she said goodbye to her housemates, with a peaceful game of poker, watered by a fine Scottish whiskey that Amy, one of her housemates, hid, waiting for an opportunity like that.

– Mary – they were still unable to pronounce her name with the correct accent, so she authorized them to resort to the English version of the same – For the amount that you just lost, I hope you have a fantastic Portuguese guy waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers and a huge engagement ring at the airport door – Emma declared between sips, as she pulled to herself a huge stack of chips that Mary had wagered.

Maria merely shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip of whiskey before distributing the next hand.

The memory of the previous night brought her a bittersweet smile to her lips. She knew what to expect beyond that huge hall of the airport, and there was no Prince Charming.

A sudden anger invaded her, and she found herself sitting on the bench behind a taxi muttering inconsistencies in a sawed English accent.

– Sorry, where do you want to go? – Asked the cabbie in a very disorderly anglo-portuguese accent.

– Home. – she muttered before giving the right directions to her family house, when all she wanted as to roll in her heels and go back to where she came from.