In the afternoon, more journalists arrived. Security kept them at bay, but every time I pushed the glass door, I could smell the collective anxiety like ozone before a storm. I worked until the blueprints ceased to be lines and became spaces again: light, echoes, lives inside. That was my truth. No one could touch me there.

When I left, the sky was the color of graphite. A dark sedan was waiting for me. The driver rolled down the window.

"Engineer Del Valle asked me to take you," he said.

For a second, I wanted to refuse. Then I thought of the cameras. I got in.

We didn't speak during the ride; the silence didn't bother me. The car moved like a fish in a river of horns until we left downtown behind. He dropped me off two blocks from my building, invisible to prying eyes. Before getting out, the driver bowed slightly.

"Same time tomorrow, Miss Ferrer."

***

I slept little. I dreamed of a tape measure passing over my skin: one, two, three... fine adjustment. I woke up with the first ray