Souvenir of the Man who never existed.

He came out of nowhere and sat down at the pub. I remember quite well his garments were ragged and dirty. He had a sad and tired look on his face when he requested a tequila shot. He drank it silently until there was nothing left.

“Where do you come from?”- I asked, intrigued. It was not usual for this town to receive visitors. We knew every local and I never saw this man before.

“Give me another one”- he responded, ignoring my question, as he looked around studying his surroundings.

The bar was empty that night, just a couple of drunken, Mikel and Joseph, who used to visit every Friday to talk gibberish about politics and religion. They were already knocked down on their tables.

I don’t know what was so captivating about the stranger, but I felt empathy for him. Maybe that is my mistake, I always tend to feel for people who aren’t related to me, I always want to help. It is my personality, but sometimes I put myself in difficult situations for trying to be kind.

“Want another one?”- I asked shyly when he finished his second shot.

“Can I ask you something?”

Surprised by his answer with another question, I gave him an affirmative nod, not knowing what else to do. I am shy by nature. Working at a bar is not a job that seems suitable for me, but I enjoy the silence of this ghost town, I like to see them become drunk in silence. Sometimes they tell stories of their past, while I just listen.

“Do you have a map?”

What a strange question, I thought. Of course, I didn’t have one. My reply came almost imperceptive. The man shrugged and went back to stare at the empty glass. The sight was pathetic. I felt a punch of disappointment on my stomach and guilt because I haven’t a map for him.

“Why would you need a map?”

“To show you where I come from”- his response was.

“Well, you don’t need a map to tell me.”

“I already tried telling the people who restrained me. They confiscated my passport, all my documents alleging my country does not exist! Can you believe it? I showed them the zone my country is supposed to be, but to my amazement, it had another name.”

I gave him a quizzical look, thinking he had lost his brains.

“You don’t believe either.”

“Sorry man, but, I’m just listening. I…I just listen.”

“Would you listen without judgment?”

I gave him a quick nod. I didn’t have another choice. “Who restrained you?”

“The military.”

“Why? Are you a criminal?”

“Far from it! But they treated me like one just because they said I did not belong. I know they are doing their duties but I am not a wrongdoer.”

“What did they tell you?”- I find myself asking, interested all of a sudden, even if what he said had no sense at all.

“A big man came to me, his face intimidating, and asked me for my passport. When he saw where I came from he took my belongings and sent me to a small room where I was interrogated.”

“Where do you come from?”

The man sighed as if anticipating my reaction, pondering if to tell me or not. He then said: “Ithra. Don’t worry, no need to tell me you never heard of it before.”

Well, the truth is that country doesn’t exist, but I remained silent, inviting him to continue.

“The big man conducted me to a cell where other military personnel was and then the real questioning began. They told me my country was not registered nor they heard before about my Ithra, although my passport is genuine. They emptied my bags, looking for something to expose me. Then they took all with them even though I begged them to let me go.”

“And what happened then?”

“They enclosed me in the cell for almost fifteen hours until they could find my identity. My rights were violated, they did not mention a lawyer. I could speak to the embassy of Ithra, but of course, there wasn’t. I was not given the right to a call. I saw a calendar and mortified by the date I became more worried. It was very rare, you know. I came from Ithra on the 2^nd of September 2021. I was so distracted at the airport that I didn’t notice they haven't any protocols for the pandemic. The calendar said the date was 6^th of July 1992.” He was silent for a few seconds then he asked: “Can you please tell me what the date is today?”

Unbelievable. The guy, I think, was taken out directly from the asylum. I told him the date and he stood there, reflecting.

“I am in a different epoch, I traveled to the past. Twenty-nine years to be exact. I reflected on everything that happened in just a few hours. They left me in the cell for almost a day. Until I escaped.

“How did you escape from a well-secured prison cell?”

“It was very simple. I vanished.”

“And you came to this town right when you vanished?”

“I just walked and walked until I found this bar.”

“I see”- I said. I was thinking about calling 911 because the man was crazy, no doubt.

“Well I must continue my path, thank you for listening to me.”

“Wait”- he ignored me and left the chair. He stepped to the exit and opened the door.

I noticed there was small photography on the counter. I grabbed to give it back to him, though I don’t know if he left it there on purpose. To my surprise when I opened the door the man had disappeared. I searched everywhere with my eyes. He couldn’t have left so fast. I then looked at the picture; it was from him, looking younger and well dressed. I then turned it around and it was written with beautiful calligraphy: a souvenir from a man who never existed.