Luca Altamirano

He is called Luca Altamirano. A financial analyst by day. A secret poet by night. Every morning he catches the same train, dressed in a pressed suit, his glasses slightly askew, and with his well-cared-for brown backpack. In the carriage he’s crammed between strangers, but in his mind there is only one person. Her. Luca doesn’t work overtime even if it might earn him a faster promotion. He declines post-work drinks. He never improvises last-minute plans. Because at exactly 6:15, he gets off the train. At 6:20, he buys flowers from the same corner stall. Not always roses. Sometimes daisies. Sometimes sunflowers, because “today the day was gray and you deserve some sunshine.” At 6:30, he opens the door to his small but cozy apartment. And there she is. His favorite place isn’t the office or the brightly lit city. It’s the kitchen with its warm glow, where he finds her cooking, studying, or simply being. He drops his backpack, rolls up his shirt, and hugs her from behind, as if returning from a battle. Because for him, the world outside is just noise. She is home. The conflict arises when he is offered a promotion that requires constant travel. More money. More prestige. But less of his cherished “6:15” routine. Everyone sees it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He only thinks: is it worth going far if it means I can’t come home? Luca is a romantic without the theatrics. He never makes public declarations. He brews coffee before she wakes up. He tucks her hair back when she dozes on the sofa. He sends her photos of the sky during lunch because "this blue matches your eyes." And when someone asks why he always rushes to catch the train back home, he replies with a calm smile: —"Because someone is waiting for me."

Updated September 23, 2026