Absurdity: 2.0.0.1.

It was at the very instant he lit his cigarette that the man in the tuxedo evaporated…

There are bizarre cases that occur without any apparent explanation, strange situations that unfold daily without anything to justify them. And they happen right before our eyes, which does not mean they are entirely visible.

In recent days, such events had manifested at an unusual pace, arousing the curiosity of a small group of individuals who, on Friday nights, gathered in Grandma’s basement to discuss the latest occurrences. Grandma, of course, lived in constant agitation. She disliked those late‑night meetings and hated having to give up her basement on Fridays — the only day of the week when she had a “break” from the Chinese fan dances in the park across the street. A day she longed for, the well‑deserved rest for her (already old legs) and her (equally old) neighbors, companions in that group dance routine.

That was the only day she had to spend the night in her basement, which she had equipped with an incredible sound system and karaoke, as well as the latest console and VR set. Nothing was missing there; it was truly her corner of peace and relaxation, especially since she had been widowed the previous year, when she was forced to fill her nights with the “aunties’ dances.” A ridiculous name, it must be said, but one meant to soften the advanced age of its participants.

The grandkids were then in the basement, accidental squatters who had already become regulars. No one knows exactly when or why, but they had developed an undeniable fascination with these unusual phenomena that kept appearing more and more. Even so, that night they were particularly downcast. They had been at it for months, in countless meetings, discussing and debating endless theories, but without any success. The truth was that not only had they gotten nowhere, but since they had never actually witnessed anything at all, they were losing hope and, worse, the will to continue with their useless investigation project.

So they sat there, slouched deep into the enormous longchaise, killing time with fighting arcade style games, their hands occupied either with console controllers or with cold panachés that Grandma kept in the basement’s mini‑fridge. In this setting, beyond the irritating and repetitive sound of clicking buttons and joysticks and the shouts of characters brawling on the huge 4K screen, there reigned above all a heavy silence, broken only by brief sighs from those who knew that never, ever, would any of those bizarre events occur nearby — and certainly not there, in the neighborhood of the “centenarian dancers,” as they disdainfully called them.

Meanwhile, in that very neighborhood, at the door of that very house, stood a middle‑aged man, blank look on his face, struggling to hide an unmistakable nervousness. In his eyes was an almost youthful enthusiasm, as if he believed he was about to enjoy a memorable night. Someone driven by the frantic pull of passion, a man long smitten with Grandma, who believed she loved to dance (completely unaware that she sighed for any pause, any night without music, without neighbors, and above all, without dancing.)

Finally, after so many nights waving the fan to the most diverse oriental rhythms, the man took the initiative to invite her out. An unmissable event, truly irresistible… an evening of ballroom dancing, in pairs, of course. Everything was prepared: the invitations, the speech, the neatly trimmed white beard, and the matching cologne. And, logically, the attire to match.

He was truly a dream! Immaculate shirt, straightened tie, shoes shining. If only he weren’t so impatient and restless, everything would have been perfect. But nerves consumed him, and instinctively he reached for the pack, always at hand.

In life, the bizarre always happens without warning.

At that instant, three unexpected situations occurred simultaneously:

1. The grandkids began to dance and sing reggaeton loudly and exuberantly when — mid-game — they hit 2001 subs on live streaming.

2. Grandma, who only wanted rest, fed up with (reggaeton) music and dancing , burst out screaming in bed and suffered a sudden heart attack as her pulse spiked irrationally to 200.1 beats per minute.

3. The man outside, smiling as he heard shouts of ecstasy and reggaeton rhythms, lifted the lighter to the cigarette in his mouth. His wristwatch, glinting under the tux, caught his sideways glance — it read 20:01, exactly before he evaporated.

Absurdity, after all, doesn’t spare even the Christmas season.