First Part: Morgana at the Café
The bells above the door of the small Cuban café rang as Morgana entered, taking a deep breath of the freshly ground coffee aroma. The soft melodies of a bolero intertwined with the low voices of the few customers occupying the tables. This corner, with its walls decorated with black and white photographs of old Havana, was her refuge in Florida, a piece of her homeland in the distance.
She walked to the bar, where Isabel, the owner and trusted friend, greeted her with a wide smile and the warm embrace she always gave.
—Morgana! —said Isabel, as she poured her a cup of strong, dark coffee, just like they drank back home.— Everything alright, my dear? I see that look on your face… Another strange call?
Morgana took the cup in her hands and let out a light laugh, though her eyes showed a flicker of frustration.
—Yes, it seems that the "famous medium" is still more of an entertainment act —she replied, trying to keep the tone light.— But tonight, something changed. Someone called me who sounded really scared. I think this time it might be real.
Isabel raised her eyebrows, a gesture that clearly showed her interest.
—Really? —she asked, leaning in a bit closer.— And what kind of things are happening?
Morgana briefly recounted the noises, the shadows, and the oppressive feeling that the client had described so clearly. As she spoke, she unconsciously touched the edge of her cup, her fingers playing with the handle as if searching to hold onto something tangible amid the uncertainty.
Isabel nodded knowingly and gave her a pat on the shoulder.
—Well, we'll see what happens, but tell me, where is that house you're going to visit tonight?
Morgana fell silent for a moment. The spoon in her hand hung suspended in the air. The address, she thought suddenly. She hadn't asked for it. Her eyes clouded briefly, and her jaw tightened as the realization hit her. How had she been so careless?
—It can't be… —she murmured, staring into the dark café.— How did I forget to ask something so important?
Isabel gave her an understanding smile, trying to lighten the situation.
—Don't worry, dear. It's normal… Sometimes things don't go as planned. —She served her a guava pastry, trying to lift her spirits.— Who knows? Maybe it wasn't as important as you thought.
Morgana sighed and took a sip of coffee, the familiar taste comforting her a bit, but she couldn't shake that pang of frustration. She knew she shouldn't make such mistakes, and yet, there she was.
Second Part: The Coincidence at the Café
At that moment, the payphone's bell rang from the corner of the café, echoing in the quiet environment. Distracted, Morgana looked up and saw a man approaching the handset. Upon hearing the voice emanating from the receiver, her eyes narrowed. She recognized the voice instantly; it was the same one that had called her that afternoon, with the same tone of desperation and frustration she remembered.
—This is ridiculous… —the man murmured, his voice laden with exasperation.— As if a medium could fix this… They don't even answer me.
Morgana felt fate was playing a good joke on her, but a small knot formed in her stomach. For a moment, the insecurity she tried to hide surfaced. What if she was wrong? What if this was just an absurd coincidence? She closed her eyes briefly, took a breath, and remembered why she did this. This was her job. And sometimes, the signs were there if one knew how to see them.
When she opened her eyes, she stood gracefully from the bar and walked towards the man. Just before reaching him, she touched the quartz pendant around her neck, a gesture that gave her confidence and reinforced her mystical aura. As she approached his side, she waited for him to hang up the phone and, with an enigmatic smile, introduced herself:
—Madam Morgana, at your service.
The man made a small jump, and the coin he was holding fell to the ground with a clink. His eyes opened in surprise.
—How… how did you know I was here? —he asked, his voice still trembling.
Morgana, now in control, gently raised a hand, making a small gesture as if she were caressing the air.
—Let's say I have a sixth sense for coincidences… or maybe it was destiny that wanted us to meet. —Her words flowed naturally, while her eyes remained fixed on his, seeking a connection.
The man looked at her, visibly impressed, as if trying to decipher whether everything was real or part of an illusion.
Third Part: The Missing Detail
Morgana took advantage of the man's bewilderment to soften her tone, inviting him to sit at one of the nearby tables.
—Now that destiny has brought us together, why don't you tell me more details? And, of course, the address I need to go to tonight.
The man, still shocked but now more comfortable, agreed. He gave her the address and, this time, shared more details: he talked about how the noises seemed to move between the walls, how shadows slid through the rooms, and how he felt an inexplicable chill running down his back, even on the hottest nights in Florida. Morgana listened attentively, occasionally touching her pendant, a small gesture that the man noticed and that only seemed to intensify the mystery around her.
—Don't worry —she finally said, with a firm and reassuring tone.— Tonight, I will be there. Whatever is happening in that house, we will discover it.
The man, visibly relieved, nodded and thanked her before leaving. Morgana watched him exit the café, feeling her confidence return strongly.
Fourth Part: Reflection and Leaving the Café
Morgana returned to the bar, where Isabel was waiting with a knowing smile. She offered her another pastry, and Morgana accepted it with a grateful smile.
—See, the universe knows what it's doing —said Isabel, winking.— You just have to listen a little more.
Morgana smiled, the sweet taste of the guava pastry mingling with the warmth of the coffee still in her mouth. As she savored it, she reflected on what had just happened. Sometimes, destiny places you in the exact place, reminding you why it's worth moving forward, even when everything seems uncertain.
She finished her coffee and said goodbye to Isabel. Before leaving, she stayed a few seconds watching the small mural on the wall that showed Havana's Malecón, her hometown. She touched the frame of the photo affectionately and, with a smile on her lips, left the café. The fresh night breeze greeted her, and as she walked down the neon-lit street, she felt the city's energy and the distant echo of her homeland, as if both were guiding her on her path.
"Maybe it was luck… or perhaps something more," she thought, letting the Florida breeze caress her face as she walked towards her destination. For the first time in a long while, everything seemed to align.