The case of my friend Paul is quite complex and worrying, since he has suffered greatly with the disappearance of Angie. It's been almost two months since our arrival to the City of the Crescent Mist. It is not long, but it seems that for Paul there has been nothing prior to that icy and cloudy day in which he breathed for the first time in your soul the air of this strange city, of this strange city where even today, despite all intensities of the erotic and tragedy, he thinks pursue his master's degree in space physics and astronomy.

One morning, shortly after I had arrived at the City of the Crescent Mist, I visited him in his apartment, that is, to the apartment which was granted him temporarily by the scholarship, and I found him counting one by one the minutes of heaven, or at least that was what Paul said me who was doing. That's what he told me, yes, as to not say something as trivial as that was counting stars or the minutes on his own loneliness.

Now well, I know I should be a little more specific, and I know very well to say that someone like my friend Paul is counting the minutes of his own loneliness, or counting stars, or counting even the deliriums of silence, not something that gives enough information about this someone or about the events that hypothetical person has lived for the past few days. Moreover, if there is something I accept in this life is that I am somewhat abstract, or rather, very abstract, and even more when I tell a story. Anyway, what I found really doing to my dear friend Paul that morning when I visited him, it was this: noting carefully by a fine and elegant telescope the firmament (or at least that's what I imagine, because what else could be watching him?).

By the way, I must say, as a brief parenthesis that for my friend Paul, anything having to do with the firmament, the outer space, the stars of infinite and all objects which, in one form or another, studied the science of astronomy, always has awakened in him a fascination of unsuspected limits. Every day, even, when the sunset, with its shades of red, or oranges, or purples, or even greens, falls and precipitated in all the looks they wish to inspect the sky, and the entire universe awakens revealing the nuances of life, my friend Paul Ruiz is engaged to look through a powerful telescope the mystical and gentle brightness of stars in the cosmos. A task which still nowadays he dedicates himself entirely, with the slight exception that lately he also has dedicated itself to feel the abysmal absence of his beloved Angie, is one of the mysterious women who have disappeared in the City of the Crescent Mist.

"Tell me Javier," Paul asked me of a moment's notice when I went to visit him this morning that I've mentioned lines back. “Why Angie had to disappear from one moment to another, just when everything was going so well! Why she decided to take a train that cold and rainy morning for, apparently, never return! Why!? Why!? Why, Javier!? Why she decided to call me for that I could see how she left!? I don't get it! I don't understand, Javier! I swear you that I don't understand it!...”

My friend Paul was much more destroyed than it at a first moment I thought by the mysterious disappearance of the pretty and tender Angie. But, what dark and strange reason was hiding behind the fact that she, the beautiful and cheerful Angie decided to disappear and leave him all his things, including her own personal diary, to her boyfriend, namely, Paul? And, for what reason she decided to leave the city and my life fair and precisely in a train, a means so little used by people of City of the Crescent Mist?

Whatever the answer to each of those questions, the only certainty is that in the memory of my friend will always be all traces of the sweet light that the cute Angie Daniela Durán emitted by her skin of mystic girl. But this certainty, instead of impregnate and insufflate some of life to my friend, is something that worries him more. Not for nothing, in the memory of him will always remain the subtle presence of the beautiful and cheerful Angie like a breeze in a vacuum just sensed, or like a small lint which is dragged towards some distant boundary of this universe of unknown essences.

Furthermore, in possession of my friend Paul not only have remained those insubstantial and distant strands of humanity and love for his beautiful girlfriend (the only girlfriend who I came to know him now that I think about it a little), also remain, in his power, and under his own responsibility, of course, the apartment and all that she had. All things that once belonged to the cute Angie and which now seem to belong to Paul. More specifically, a bed, a pile of books on biology, several cosmetic implements, a television, a laptop computer, a refrigerator-white, various cooking implements, a small and cuddly kitten named Sally that Angie always used to embrace much, and until all clothing that was in her apartment. Yes, as I have said, everything that had the cute Angie remains now with Paul, except the clothes that she wore that sad and memorable day when he decided to leave.

Fortunately, the small kitten Sally who was of Angie, had already taken him much affection to Paul, because he used to visit his girlfriend very often (with "very often," by the way, I want to say, that he was always in the apartment of her, since both were neighbors and as couple they were very sweets). As a result, the small and cuddly kitten did not protest when Paul decided to take her to her apartment. And so, shortly after that the beautiful Angie went away and when already Paul was noticed that she didn't return and that she doesn't want to even communicate with him, and when already the small kitten Sally was ensconced at home, Paul he got in the vain task of finding a family member of Angie. Yes, in the vain and demanding task of inquiring into the perfumes of someone else's life, in a dissolute existence, in a mirage without defined horizon. First, he decided to look into her mobile phone and dialed all the numbers that Angie had stored there, but nothing. None of these numbers stored in that device was of a family member of Angie. All these numbers were of friends who failed to give any concrete information. Apparently, Angie Daniela Duran didn't have any family, this, clear, seemed him to Paul quite simply ridiculous, yes, ridiculous, outrageous and preposterous. But he had to do something about it. Very surely, Paul thought one morning while drinking a steaming cup of coffee, in the world should exist someone else besides him, a single person at least, who he would like to know about the fate of the beautiful and cheerful Angie. He felt in a duty to investigate, not for nothing, that girl has been, even to this day,  the woman he has most loved in his life.