Hope was in the interrogation. The police officer was asking so many questions that the woman felt suffocated. She hadn't finished answering everything when the officer came back to ask her one by one the questions on the list. It was as if she was walking through a labyrinth and he was waiting for her to slip so he could fall on her and plunge her into the mud.

A few days ago it was reported in the newspapers, that a piece of blacksmith belonging to an ancient Ethiopian dynasty was missing from the city museum of which there was not much information since the palace where the objects were found located in the horn of Africa was looted years ago and no one knew where the valuable things ended up. For this reason, police investigations were underway.

Hope works in the cleaning area of the museum. She was the only one who had the keys to all the doors in the building and had access to all the exhibition cubicles. But no matter how hard they searched they could find nothing that could incriminate her in this vandalism.

The woman was clean. So much so that she didn't have a single traffic ticket. Her neighbors loved her, because who wouldn't love a 60 year old woman who had awards for social work and community service. It was hard to think that she had the ability to come up with such a perfect robbery plan to leave no trace.

This case was like opening a puzzle box. No matter how much they questioned the employees they found nothing. There were no prints, no fibers, no trace of who committed the robbery. The main suspect was still Hope.

They finished raiding her home. They searched everything, the drawers, the kitchen drawers, the tool shed, the whole house from top to bottom. Hope was sitting in the living room armchair enjoying a raspberry gumball when an officer opened the cellar door and advised his partners that there was nothing in the house. They all retreated and took Hope to the station to sign some papers.

Tired of all these weeks of pressure and investigation, Hope left the police station with an indescribable feeling of freedom. She sat on a bench waiting for the bus under the bright light of a lamppost. She smiled slyly. She was anxious to get home.

She ran up the stairs of the building like a runaway train. At the back of her apartment, there was a Painting room, it was Hope's special place. Here she would let her imagination run wild and become a great artist. As she painted, she dreamed of her artwork being displayed in the museum.

She stood in front of the easel and had a half-finished canvas with a painting of a goose. She felt happy that she had put so much effort into this work. But what brought her to her special place tonight was something else.

She opened her paint case and at the bottom was a secret compartment. She opened it and took out a small piece of blacksmithing. He went to a corner of the room where he had an antique hex shaped machine that, at first glance, it was hard to guess what the contraption was for. He inserted the piece into a hole and like a key opened some gates. A steam came out of the machine and like an ancient witch of the 11th century, she read an inscription on the machine in an ancient language.

As if by magic, coffee began to come out of one of the machine's ducts. Hope placed her favorite cup and filled herself with the precious liquid. The cup appeared to have a cloud cover on the surface from the froth of the delicious coffee.

She took a sip of her coffee and felt vitalized. She finished her drink quickly and minutes later fell to the floor, breaking the cup and lying on the antique Ethiopian rug that adorned her living room.

Hours later she washed up a little dizzy and with a headache as if a sandworm was piercing her brain. Staggering, she arrived in front of the mirror and could not believe her eyes. She was 40 years younger. She looked active, young and beautiful.

Hope was the granddaughter of a great historian. She learned everything her grandfather taught her and among all the knowledge she inherited from the man who raised her, she learned the secrets of the Ethiopian dynasty, the origin of the first coffee trees in history. Her grandfather found the machine of eternal youth that worked with Ethiopian coffee and Hope had been working for years in the museum planning the perfect way to extract the key that would change her life forever and give her eternal youth.