The Man Who Had No Time
At 6:00 every morning, Dave Cortes woke up.
Not 5:59.
Not 6:01.
Exactly 6:00.
His alarm wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. Dave’s body had been trained to wake before the second vibration.
He opened his eyes, reached for his phone, and checked the day’s schedule.
6:00 — Wake up.
6:05 — Shower.
6:20 — Coffee.
6:30 — Breakfast.
6:45 — Leave apartment.
7:30 — Site inspection.
9:00 — Client meeting.
11:30 — Structural review.
1:00 — Lunch.
1:30 — Design meeting.
4:00 — Presentation.
6:30 — Office review.
8:00 — Dinner.
9:00 — Final revisions.
11:30 — Sleep.
Tomorrow’s schedule was already prepared.
Next week’s schedule was waiting in his calendar.
Even his vacations had itineraries.
Dave liked knowing what came next.
People called it discipline.
His colleagues called it impressive.
His mother called it unhealthy.
Dave called it efficient.
At thirty-two, he was one of the youngest senior architects in his firm.
He had designed commercial buildings, hotels, corporate offices, and luxury residences.
His work had appeared in architecture magazines.
His name was beginning to mean something.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He had no time for distractions.
No time for unnecessary conversations.
No time for relationships that required explanations.
And absolutely no time for people who used the word spontaneous as if it were a virtue.
Which was why, on an ordinary Tuesday morning, Dave had absolutely no idea that a woman named Mara Castro was about to destroy his carefully organized life.
The first problem was the rain.
It started at 7:05 a.m.
By 7:15, traffic was terrible.
By 7:25, Dave was still three kilometers from the office.
He checked his watch.
7:26.
He frowned.
He was going to be late.
Dave hated being late.
He took an alternate route and pulled into a small parking area beside a community library.
He didn’t know the place existed.
He only stopped because the traffic ahead had completely stopped moving.
He checked his phone.
Seven missed messages from his assistant.
One from his client.
Two from the construction team.
He sighed.
Then someone ran directly into the side of his car.
Dave slammed on the brakes.
A woman stumbled backward.
A stack of books fell onto the wet pavement.
Dave stared at her through the windshield.
She stared back.
Then she looked at the books.
Then at the car.
Then at him.
“Oh my God.”
Dave opened his door.
“Are you okay?”
She looked offended.
“Am I okay?”
“Yes.”
“You almost hit me!”
“You ran into my car.”
“I was avoiding the puddle.”
“You ran into a moving vehicle to avoid a puddle?”
“It was a very big puddle.”
Dave looked at the puddle.
It was not very big.
“It was not.”
She put her hands on her hips.
“You weren’t there.”
“I was driving.”
“Exactly.”
Dave looked at her.
She was wearing a yellow raincoat.
Her hair was wet.
She was holding three books against her chest.
One had fallen open on the ground.
He picked it up.
“You dropped this.”
She took it from him.
“Thank you.”
“You should be more careful.”
She stared at him.
“You should be less judgmental.”
“I wasn’t judging you.”
“You were.”
“I was making an observation.”
“That’s what judgmental people call judgment.”
Dave looked at his watch.
7:31.
He didn’t have time for this.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He turned toward his car.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
She pointed at his bumper.
“You hit my books.”
Dave looked at her.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“You ran into my car.”
“My books were in my arms.”
“That doesn’t mean I hit them.”
She stared at him.
Then smiled.
“You’re one of those people.”
“What people?”
“The kind who always needs to be right.”
Dave sighed.
“Have a good day.”
“You too, Mr. Always-Right.”
He got into his car.
As he drove away, he looked at the rearview mirror.
She was still standing there.
Watching him.
Then she picked up another book from the ground.
Dave shook his head.
Ridiculous.
He turned onto the main road.
Five minutes later, he realized something.
He was smiling.
He immediately stopped.
The community library was called The Corner Library.
Dave learned this three days later.
He hadn’t planned to return.
He had no reason to.
But the construction site for one of his projects was delayed again because the city had closed the road.
The fastest alternate route took him past the library.
He saw the woman in the yellow raincoat through the window.
He recognized her immediately.
She was sitting behind the front desk.
Reading.
Dave kept driving.
Then stopped.
He frowned.
Why had he stopped?
He looked at the clock.
10:42.
He had twenty minutes before his next meeting.
He could get coffee.
Instead, he parked.
He entered the library.
A small bell rang above the door.
The woman looked up.
Her eyes widened.
Then she smiled.
“Well.”
Dave approached the desk.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Always-Right.”
He sighed.
“Do you remember everyone who walks into this place?”
“No.”
“Then why remember me?”
“Because you nearly murdered my books.”
“I did not.”
She smiled.
“I knew you’d come back.”
“I didn’t come here because of you.”
“Sure.”
“I need a quiet place to make a call.”
She gestured toward the tables.
“There’s an entire library.”
“Thank you.”
He walked away.
She watched him sit.
Then returned to her book.
Dave took out his phone.
Called his assistant.
Discussed the delayed project.
Reviewed a contract.
Checked three emails.
And then he noticed something.
The library was quiet.
Not silent.
Quiet.
Children whispered near the shelves.
Someone turned a page.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
He looked up.
The woman behind the desk was watching him.
“What?”
“You’re working.”
“Yes.”
“In a library.”
“Yes.”
“You know you’re allowed to relax here.”
“I don’t need to.”
She smiled.
“You look like you haven’t relaxed since 2009.”
Dave frowned.
“How would you know?”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The face of someone who thinks relaxing is a waste of time.”
He returned his attention to his phone.
“I’m busy.”
“You’re always busy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s efficient.”
“Same thing?”
“No.”
She closed her book.
“What do you do?”
“Architect.”
She looked impressed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it was good.”
Dave looked up.
She smiled innocently.
He almost laughed.
Almost.
“What about you?”
“I work here.”
“As a librarian?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“I’m also the director of the children’s reading program.”
“That sounds like a real job.”
“It is.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You’re bad at compliments.”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
“I know.”
She smiled again.
Dave looked at his watch.
11:01.
His meeting was in twenty-nine minutes.
He stood.
“I have to go.”
She nodded.
“Nice seeing you again, Mr. Always-Right.”
“Dave.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“My name is Dave.”
“I know.”
“How?”
She pointed toward his laptop.
His name was printed on the company identification card beside it.
He looked down.
Right.
She laughed.
“Dave.”
“Correct.”
“I’m Mara.”
He nodded.
“Mara.”
“See you around.”
“I don’t think so.”
She smiled.
“That’s what everyone says.”
Dave forgot about her.
Or at least, he thought he did.
For the next two weeks, he returned to his normal routine.
Work.
Meetings.
Construction sites.
Designs.
Deadlines.
His life was predictable again.
Until one Friday afternoon, his mother called.
“Dave.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“What did you eat?”
“Lunch.”
“What?”
He sighed.
“Food.”
“Dave.”
“Chicken.”
“With vegetables?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You always say that.”
He smiled.
His mother knew him too well.
“Are you coming Sunday?”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Come.”
“I have work.”
“You always have work.”
“I know.”
“That’s the problem.”
He was quiet.
She softened.
“You’re thirty-two.”
“I know.”
“You work all the time.”
“I like my work.”
“I know.”
“You’re making a point.”
“Yes.”
“What point?”
“You don’t have to wait until you’re old to start living.”
Dave didn’t answer.
His mother sighed.
“Just come Sunday.”
“I’ll see.”
“Dave.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
The call ended.
Dave stared at his phone.
Then, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he thought of Mara.
You look like you haven’t relaxed since 2009.
He laughed quietly.
Sunday came.
Dave did not go to his mother’s house.
He went to the library.
He told himself it was because he needed somewhere quiet to finish a proposal.
That was the reason.
It had nothing to do with Mara.
Absolutely nothing.
He entered.
The bell rang.
Mara looked up.
She smiled immediately.
“You came back.”
“I need a quiet place.”
“Of course.”
She looked at the laptop bag on his shoulder.
“Work?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“You know, most people come here to read.”
“I read.”
“Contracts don’t count.”
“They’re still words.”
She laughed.
“Fine.”
Dave sat at a table.
Mara returned to her work.
For the next hour, neither spoke.
Then a little boy approached Mara.
“Miss Mara?”
“Yes?”
“Can you help me?”
She immediately put down what she was doing.
“Of course.”
The boy showed her a book.
“I don’t understand this.”
Mara sat beside him.
“Okay. Let’s read it together.”
Dave watched.
She was patient.
She didn’t rush.
She didn’t correct him when he struggled.
She smiled every time he got something right.
Eventually, the boy smiled.
“I can read it now!”
“I knew you could.”
He hugged her.
Dave looked away.
Something about the moment made him uncomfortable.
Not because it was bad.
Because it was good.
Too good.
Mara returned to the desk.
She caught him watching.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
He smiled.
“You’re very observant.”
“I have to be.”
“Why?”
“People tell you a lot when you actually listen.”
Dave looked at her.
He didn’t know what to say.
So he returned to his work.
That afternoon, Mara brought him coffee.
He looked at the cup.
“I didn’t order this.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you bring it?”
“You looked tired.”
“I always look tired.”
“Exactly.”
He took the cup.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She sat across from him.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“You need a hobby.”
“I have hobbies.”
“What?”
“Architecture.”
“That’s your job.”
“Photography.”
“Of buildings?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not a hobby. That’s more architecture.”
Dave smiled.
“You’re difficult.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She leaned back.
“Okay. I’ll give you a challenge.”
“I don’t need a challenge.”
“Everyone needs a challenge.”
“What is it?”
She pointed toward the library door.
“Tomorrow, don’t make a schedule.”
He stared at her.
“That sounds terrible.”
“Exactly.”
“I have work.”
“Then after work.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to learn how to do something without knowing what happens next.”
“I know exactly what happens next.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Do you?”
He didn’t answer.
She smiled.
“Come tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“That’s the point.”
“I need details.”
“No.”
“I need a time.”
“No.”
“A location?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
“You’re asking me to agree to something without knowing what it is.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
She stood.
“Fine.”
She walked away.
Dave watched her.
Then he said:
“What time?”
She turned around.
“Really?”
“Seven.”
She smiled.
“Seven.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“You’ll find out.”
“That is incredibly annoying.”
“I know.”
She walked away.
Dave looked at the clock.
Then at her.
For the first time in years, he had agreed to something without knowing the schedule.
And strangely…
he was looking forward to it.
At 7:00 the next evening, Dave stood outside the library.
No plan.
No itinerary.
No idea where he was going.
Mara came outside carrying two backpacks.
She handed him one.
“What is this?”
“Your things.”
“What things?”
“Water. Food. A flashlight.”
“Why do we need a flashlight?”
She smiled.
“You’ll see.”
Dave looked at the backpack.
Then at her.
“Where are we going?”
She started walking.
“That’s the first rule.”
“What rule?”
“Don’t ask.”
He followed her.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“What exactly did I agree to?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“To one year.”
Dave stopped walking.
“What?”
She smiled.
“You’ll understand later.”
Then she continued down the street.
Dave stood there for a moment.
He had no idea who Mara Castro was.
He didn’t know why she had chosen him.
He didn’t know where she was taking him.
And he certainly didn’t know that the woman walking ahead of him would change his life completely.
All he knew was that, for the first time in years, he wasn’t looking at his watch.
He was simply following her.
And somehow…
that felt like the beginning of something.
