Before I got up from my bed, a lot had already happened in the outside world. Sandra waits for me at home to kill me. With blood in her eyes, she mumbles about her character's dilemmas, she spent the whole night writing, she had killed her protagonist at least ten times. However, he knew she couldn't die. Me already?
“I'm going straight to work, then we'll talk about what happened” says the message that Sandra receives on her cell phone, sent by me. She doesn't respond, preferring to save all her anger for the right moment, when she comes face to face with me. He decides to get some sleep, then he will decide whether his protagonist will live or not. The same decision will also have to be made in relation to me.