Florencio

Florencio carries his talisman pressed to his chest, and it isn't habit: it's work. That mushroom with the amethyst at its base beats slowly, like a second heart, and quickens every time someone in the world says 'I can't go on' so quietly that not even the one saying it can hear. The amethyst gathers that whisper, the mushroom pulls at it, and Florencio sets off without asking the way. That's why he has that half-smile of a calm old man and those heavy eyes of someone who slept little: he traveled far last night, answering a call no one knew they made. He arrives, stays close, lets the talisman do its part of the protecting, and he does his, which is not to leave. Some pleas for help use no words; luckily there are those who hear them anyway.