[https://i.postimg.cc/cCxYHKmN/The-Girl-who-could-taste-time.gif]

As Nona spends more time in the apartment, she becomes increasingly aware of her kidnapper's habits and routines. She carefully observes his movements and patterns, hoping to find a way to escape. Her hopes are not high, but if there is any chance at all for freedom, it will be through knowledge gained from close observation. And so one day, when he has gone out for work, she learns that he does this every morning after breakfast at 07.45AM. She learned the man who named himself Day, which sounded like a fake alias to her, was punctual.

As she was showering, she realised she could hear memories. The sound of the water and the soothing warmth helped her focus on the voice in her head. A deep but calm voice reciting questions that didn't connect. Questions she still needed the answers to.

'This is our address, 1-5-9-2-6-5-3-5-9. Nona?'; said the voice. She recognised her name, Nona. She mumbled the numbers to herself: 'One, five, nine... what was the rest?'

'These are our initials. E.S. and N.P., so you don't forget where home is.'; the voice continues explaining.

'E.S... N.P....'; Nona's mind reeled with confusion. What did these letters stand for? They were some kind of code! But why would they use them instead of their names?

'Wedding ring?'; the voice asked finally. She looked at her hand and took the ring off her finger reading Love of my life. 'Come back home safe. I'm not asking.'; said the voice and repeated all the previous questions and others. What is my middle name? When did we meet? Why don't we have a cat? A code, whoever was asking her those questions knew she could get lost, with no memories. It was a map that only they knew how to solve.

As she continues to listen to her memories, Nona begins to feel a renewed sense of determination. Someone was waiting for her and probably looking for her. Over time, Nona's plan takes shape. She knows that her kidnapper is a creature of habit, and she uses this knowledge to anticipate his movements. But mostly, she tries to decode her memories. If she can remember enough about her past, she might know something useful about her present situation. Perhaps even how to escape. It doesn't take long before Nona understands that the voices in her head aren't random thoughts or meaningless words.

In the meantime, as if made of matter of dreams and nightmares, she hears two voices coming from the living room. She walked slowly to the doorframe, which was missing a door, to peek at the scenery.

An older, overweight man, who appears to be in his late fifties, sits on the worn-out couch in the dimly lit living room. He is casually dressed, wearing a stained white tank top and old sweatpants. The other, an average-looking man in his mid-thirties, is nervously pacing the room, occasionally glancing out the window as if he's expecting someone to arrive.

'Stop it, Horatio! You're making me nervous!' said the old man: 'You remind me of a girl who used to live here. She did that thing too. Pacing like a lunatic. You know, I've heard stories about her. She was quite something. Beautiful! Grey hair and petite. Looked book smart and a bit mysterious but crazy.' His voice trails off into silence for several seconds before continuing with more confidence: 'She had this strange aura around her that made you want to talk to her. It drew people like moths attracted by light. She always seemed so distant, though, like there were things going on behind those eyes.'

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'Yeah, I've heard those rumours too. It's strange that nobody knows what happened to her. One day, she was here, living with her cat, I think the name was Schrödinger, and the next day she just...vanished.' Horatio stops his incessant pacing long enough to look at his companion with concern: 'What are we doing, Mr Who? We should leave now while he didn't find this place yet.'

The old man ignored him: 'Hmm, you think she met a dark fate? Maybe she got mixed up in some dangerous business?'

'I don't know, but I've heard whispers about some shady character who used to visit her. Late-night meetings, strange packages, codes and codes. I met him once over the phone. He was rude and arrogant. A bloody asshole, if you ask me.' Horatio sat next to the oldest. As the two men continue their conversation, the atmosphere in the room becomes increasingly tense. The older man's casual demeanour contrasts with the younger man's anxious disposition, creating an eerie vibe. Mr Who leaned back on the couch, eyes narrowing as he pondered the possibilities. 'You know, maybe that shady character had something to do with her disappearance. Perhaps she got caught up in a dangerous game, and it eventually caught up to her.'

The younger man, now visibly anxious, resumed his pacing. 'We really shouldn't be talking about this. We could be in danger ourselves if we're discovered here. And who knows what kind of trouble that woman got herself into?' He nervously wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

Mr Who let out a hearty chuckle, seemingly amused by Horatio's fear. 'Calm down, my boy. We're just having a conversation. Besides, what's life without a little danger, eh?' His eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued, 'You know, I've heard some stories about her bedroom escapades, too, when I was her landlord. Apparently, she had quite the appetite for...unconventional experiences. Maybe her search for pleasure led her into the arms of the wrong people.'

Horatio's curiosity got the better of him, and he stopped pacing to lean in closer. 'What kind of experiences are you talking about?'

The older man smirked, clearly enjoying the attention. 'Well, let's just say she wasn't afraid to explore the darker side of Time. That woman was fearless, always chasing the next thrill, no matter how dangerous or taboo. And they said if she didn't like the taste, you'd be gone for good.'

As the conversation grew more lurid, surreal and oneiric, the tension in the room thickened. The two men traded whispers, each trying to outdo the other with increasingly wild speculations about the mysterious woman's fate. Their imaginations ran wild, painting a vivid picture of a life lived on the edge, teetering between ecstasy and doom.

In the midst of their gossip, Nona stood in front of them, causing both men to freeze in place. They held their breath, hearts pounding in their chests, as they waited. But their images crumble into the dust of black particles.

‘Fuck, I’m having hallucinations.’; she whispered in the empty living room. ‘This is it. I fucking lost my mind. I’m falling down the rabbit hole.’

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