She searched through the dirty clothes, the clean clothes, the drawers, the cupboards... nothing.

She was determined to find it. The black bra was simply gone. It wasn't the only one. She had two black ones, but that one was a bit special.

At first, she was upset. She had very few bras because they were expensive. They always had to be branded. She had big boobs and a narrow back, and not just any bra would suit her.

But that day passed, and she started wearing another one.

Flavia was a mature woman who was autonomous and very independent. She was also a little naive, which is not typical of a mature person, but she was very creative. She lived alone, divorced, and her only daughter lived far away with her boyfriend, pursuing her own independent life.

As the day went by and she couldn't find him, she looked in the least likely places. She began to feel uncomfortable.

Flavia lived in a lovely little flat with two bedrooms, a bathroom and a gorgeous open-plan living room and kitchen. She lived on the outskirts of Porto, in a really convenient spot. The flat was so cosy, with a huge bookcase, a lovely round table in the living room and a super comfy sofa facing the LCD where she watched her favourite TV series.

Sometimes, alone at night, she drank more than she should have and did really bad things. She was so drunk that she couldn't remember anything the next day. She had already gotten herself into a lot of trouble, including with the police. Sometimes the night became unbearably noisy inside her head. She wanted to go to sleep and forget about it.

That night, she was going out. She was still feeling great and sleep wasn't an option. She needed to know where first. "I'm going to Foz and I'm going to look."

She left, got in her car and drove off without a backward glance.

At dawn, she was almost home and stopped at some traffic lights, hitting the car in front with full intent.

'Oh my God!' She got out of the car and apologised unsteadily to the occupants of the car in front. "I'm going to have to pay now!" "I'm sorry!" The occupants tried to calm her down, insisting that it wasn't serious. Before she knew it, the INEM was standing next to her. They asked her where she lived, calmed her down and got her home. They were fantastic. She could have spent the night in jail and had a record for drunk driving.

In the morning, she woke up and went to work as if nothing had happened. However, she began to recall fragments of the events that had transpired the previous day, and her stress levels began to rise. She felt sick, apprehensive and ashamed.

The day went by and she realised that she had been very lucky, for all sorts of reasons. The occupants of the car in front were impeccable and even the INEM, who could (and should) have called the police, didn't. They took her into the apartment and drove her away. They took her into the flat and parked the car nearby. They were impeccable, but she didn't remember seeing anyone.