The old café near the seawall had become their usual spot. Rafael sat across from Mateo, the same man who’d once sold him coffee for a dollar on his first day in Havana. What began as small talk had grown into something like friendship—unhurried, reflective, grounded in the rhythm of shared afternoons.

  Mateo stirred his espresso. “It’s chaos out there again. Tariffs, sanctions, retaliations. Every country is trying to punish someone else for wanting to sell things cheaper.”

  Rafael nodded, his gaze on the horizon. “Yes. The strange thing is, none of it really works anymore.”

  “Why not?” Mateo asked.

  “Because the game they’re playing is collapsing,” Rafael said simply. “Mosaic doesn’t worry about tariffs. We don’t rely on exports to keep our economy alive. We produce mostly what we need. If others want to trade, we trade. If not, we’re fine. Our system isn’t built on selling more every year.”

  Mateo squinted at him. “So no pressure to grow?”

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  “Not in the old sense. We grow in a different direction—into wellbeing. Everything that improves quality of life is rewarded. Contribution, care, creativity. Profit is a side effect sometimes, not a requirement.”

  Mateo leaned back in his chair. “That’s kind of peaceful.”

  Rafael smiled. “We realized that chasing profits was making us crawl in circles. Once we stopped, we could finally walk.”

  Mateo chuckled. “You know, Cuba’s lived under embargo for decades. People expected it to crush us. But we adapted.”

  Rafael nodded. “It’s the same lesson. In a world where demand is collapsing, embargoes are mostly symbolic. If you're willing to pay, someone will always sell to you. That’s the global paradox now: sanctions don’t bite when no one can afford not to trade.”

  Mateo grinned. “True. Embargo or not, we always found a way. So... are you under embargo too?”

  Rafael laughed. “Maybe. Who would even notice?”

  There was a brief pause as Rafael glanced at his watch. “I have to head out soon. Just for a little while.”

  Mateo looked up. “You’re leaving Cuba?”

  “Only temporarily,” Rafael said. “But I’ll be back.”

  As Rafael stood and gathered his things, Mateo called after him, “Hey—one thing I keep forgetting to ask... where is Mosaic actually located?”

  Rafael turned, his smile lingering. “It’s not a secret. Just look for a country with almost no economic growth... but a very high happiness index.”

  He tipped an invisible hat, and walked off down the shaded street.