Hidden among the music cds scattered on my bedroom floor were my unreachable lucky pants. "Where are you??" I'm late!", I screamed out loud. I knew the extra minutes were going to take away from my musical theory manna. I left my house dodging the pedestrians of Av. Cornholl to arrive almost in time to my final Organology exam in the Failholl's Music Institute. Graduation was approaching and this was my last step; nothing was more important to me than music. I had already arrived at the door to the Institute, but a click in my memory told me that I had left my cellphone at home. "What has happened to me?" I was disoriented and manic-depressive - not being able to look at my irresistible cell phone screen. Nothing was more important to me than my phone. The precise moment when the Instagram notification returned the oxygen to my lungs faded in seconds. I could not attend the exam in those conditions, my body felt like vomitting when I remembered that my cell phone was not with me ... I just wanted to get home again.

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