. EROTIC STORY . The Glass and Aroma Refuge Outside, the city of São Paulo was a gray blur under a relentless storm. But inside that small café with its brick walls and soft light, time seemed to have decided to slow down. You were sitting in the corner, watching the drops trickle down the windowpane, when the doorbell rang. A breath of cold air entered along with it, as he closed a black umbrella while trying, without much success, to shake the water off his coat. When our eyes met, there was that split second of recognition—not of those who already know each other, but of those who know they should know each other. He walked to the table next to yours, but instead of sitting down, he hesitated. —The smell of brewed coffee and wet earth is the best combination in the world, don't you think?—he said, in a low voice that seemed to vibrate at the same frequency as the distant thunder. You smiled, closing the book you were reading. "That's the only reason I'm not complaining about this traffic jam outside." "May I?" He pointed to the empty chair in front of him, a glint of curiosity and audacity in his eyes. Without waiting for a negative answer, he sat down, closing the distance between you. His scent: a mixture of woody perfume and fresh rain, which filled the space.