The e-reader sat on the café table, its screen frozen on the title: Todas Canciones Aun . To anyone passing by, it was just a digital file. To Mateo, it was a ghost.
Mateo opened the book. It wasn't a novel. It was a map of sound.
"Listen to the silence between the waves. That is where I am waiting to be written."
The final page was blank, except for a GPS coordinate and a timestamp: Tomorrow, 12:00 PM. The Cliffs of Moher.