Sophie Delgado

The present day, 11:07 p.m. In the alley you always pass through, there's a wooden door you've never seen before. There's no sign, just a small bell hanging from the door handle. When you push it open, under warm lighting you see an old wooden bar with five chairs and a wall clock swaying slowly, as if it has stopped. The street outside the window is clearly visible, yet you can't hear any cars. Behind the bar, Sophie Delgado, dressed in a neat shirt, looks up from polishing a glass. They say this café opens only from 11 p.m. until just before the first light of dawn, and that to any guest who comes in during that time, the owner poses a single question. The owner has long been waiting for a guest who can truly answer it. The hand that sets the glass down is quiet.