Savior

It's really hot in the city. The sun is blazing, and, despite of it, people are on full force on the streets. There's some sea breeze that's not enough to disipate the sticky heat. The shadows and fountainsides are coveted spaces. People from a hundred different countries sit on the terraces, drinking beer, eating ice-cream, talking in their hundred different languanges. 

She walks down the crowded streets. Her streets. She knows each of them as if they were herself and that's why she has her head high, her eyes almost on the sky. She sees details no one sees, the shadows on the spires of Santa Maria del Mar, the metalwork on the balconies in el Born, how the wind plays with the fire at el Fossar de les Moreres. She catches glimpses of the lives of the people who have taken her city prisoner, a couple sharing a snack, children taking pictures of their parents, a group of old ladies who must have been friends for all their lives. She also sees some of the regulars; the violin players filling the streets and squares with music, some new guitar players. They remind her of the bass player she used to see during winter, had he gone away or was he just hiding from the heat? 

She walks at the rythm of the music on her earphones. Sometimes she mouths the lyrics, a smile on her face. She smiles all the time, and smiles at people too. She sees a young man who looks particularly sad and gives him her brightest smile, no one should be sad in a city like that. The man returns a half-smile, still sad, but with a spark of hope in his eyes. 

He sees her smile and decides there're still good things in the world, that maybe his life is still worth living. He follows her with his stare as she continues her way through the alleys behind the cathedral, oblivious of her good act. Not knowing she had just saved a life.