Living in a bustling metropolis carries a heavy weight, with the clamor of people, cars, and street vendors filling the air with a cacophony of scents that blend into the environment, it can be a nightmare, being trapped for hours in infernal traffic generates ill humor in anyone.

However, she was no ordinary person, she had lived her whole life on the edge, always having to push her survival skills to the limit. At only 19 years old, she was completely independent. Her beloved parents had died when she was 15 years old and the money from her inheritance had been frozen by the banks, leaving her with only a small monthly sum to survive on.

She lived in a large house, but they always stayed in the back room, her room, the smallest in the house, which had been built by her father's own hands. She still remembers the first night she slept in that house, when it was still unpainted and dark, lacking doors. She also remembers how over time, their house became the biggest in the whole neighborhood and how the family's finances had improved.

Her father, a builder with few formal qualifications, had surpassed himself by becoming one of the country's most talented architects, owning the most profitable construction company as well. Her mother managed the company and her sister, who had followed in her father's footsteps, was shaping up to be the best.

While the whole family had a great attraction to the field, for Jeanne it was different. She wasn't a static person, she loved to travel and did so whenever she could. At the age of 12, she had set out to travel the entire country and would take advantage of her vacations to drag her parents on all sorts of road trips to different towns, trying the local cuisine and visiting spiritual centers, which for her was the greatest delight that could exist.

She had been conceived just on the line of her mother's menopause, so she was always practically alone. As a child, her sister taught her how to read and brought her books to kill her boredom, as her father hated technological devices. Even so, her life at that time was part of her best memories; her parents were loving, and her sister was her best friend. But her 15th birthday had been marked by what had so far been the worst decision of her life because even though it had kept her alive, it condemned her to be alone in the world.

Those were the thoughts that always came up when she went to her psychologist, a young man who had helped her overcome her loss to a great extent and kept her afloat through their weekly sessions. Although they had been almost imposed by the government, they had become vital to the girl over time.

Jeanne was precisely in her psychologist's comfortable office, looking out the window as the yellow leaves of the trees filled the sidewalks where people passed without noticing the beautiful tones that each leaf possessed.

"Have you thought about it?" said Geovany, her psychologist, bringing her out of her trance.

"Thought about what?" she responded, lost in the conversation.

"What will happen now that you've graduated from high school?"

"I want to study, of course, but I haven't decided yet."

"Will you go into construction?"

"No, I would never do that. That world killed my family, and now, thanks to you, I can breathe without the pressure in my chest."

"Then what?"

"I'd like something in art, you know."

"Will you pick up painting again?"

"I think it would be good; I haven't done it in a long time."

"It's good therapy. When you decide, let me know, and I'll help you find the best place to continue your path."

"That would help me a lot, but I want to do it alone."

"Jeanne, it's not bad to receive some help."

She knew that, but she had long stopped relying on others to guide her life, although she missed it. In her heart, she always saw that doctor as a substitute for her father, which produced a pleasant warmth in her heart every time he took care of her, although he never did so outside the walls of the office so that the patient-doctor relationship was as marked as possible.

"Lost again? Your thoughts steal all your attention. What's going on? It's been a while since you disconnected from the world like this."

"I just see the leaves falling. It's a good landscape; the window frames a magical part of the city."

She referred to a place that had been the area where wealthy people had lived in the 70s, with large houses that now looked old, but with a magic that invited everyone to relax. Now, those same mansions had become faculties of different universities scattered throughout the area, which filled it with young people stunned by their new freedom.

"We can end this meeting here," she said.

"Are you going somewhere else?" Geovany questioned.

"Yes, I'm going to the bookstore. It's a beautiful day."

As she left the psychologist's office, she headed towards the city center, where a nearly 5-story old house housed a bookstore that contained an impressive number of secondhand books that had been sold by all kinds of people and that held many treasures.

It was one of the few joys she could enjoy, as she could not access the money her parents left her freely. She had to trade the scent of new and trendy books for the smell of old books which, while more affordable, had been difficult for her to adapt to. It was the biggest change she made and the one that hurt her the most, but sadly it was the only thing she could afford now