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I turned around when the touch went down to my breasts, but there was nothing. As much as people bumped into each other to move around the bar, no one touched themselves the way I felt touched. Even so, the next second, I felt something sliding on my face again, like a gesture of unwanted affection. The discomfort made me shrink, and I felt a ghost hand in contact with my body again, now on my leg, rising more and more. I was wearing a short denim skirt, so I crossed my legs, but the touch remained. I got up quickly, seriously thinking that some entity I couldn't see would be harassing me in some way. The touch spread to my arms, neck, belly.

But when my eyes drew a straight line towards the pool table further away, I could understand exactly the sensations and discomfort by the invasive touch. Miguel was leaning against the pool table, with a club in his hands and an unfriendly expression on his face, and in front of him was a human with indecent clothes and hands that walked through