Miguel Vidal Tordillo - B2 anglès (accèssit)

My last piece 

A red warning appeared on my wrist: Storage Full. Deletion imminent. In this dark future, I sat in UmbrellaTech's waiting room. I only had ten seconds to choose what to forget. If I didn’t install the new factory protocols, I’d lose my job. Without it, no oxygen ration.

I opened my neural archive. Most of it was erased, reduced to basic functions. Only one sweet folder remained.

I selected ‘%ERROR%THER_BEACH_SOUND’. Sadly, part of the memory was corrupted. A preview appeared: a split second of the smell of salt, sand touching my feet, the sound of someone singing as the waves crashed, and the warmth of that moment.The file size was exactly what the new manual required.

Tears blurred my vision as I pressed Confirm.

Processing… Deletion complete.

An immediate, cold emptiness washed over my mind. I looked at the wallpaper on my phone: an old woman smiling. I tried to feel something, but nothing came.

"Who are you?" I thought, picking up my heavy toolbelt for work.