It was a short trip. Two days to close a real estate deal and come back. But the first night, after a boring dinner with guests, I decided to walk through the historic center to clear myself.
There was music coming out of the bars, smell of recent rain and heat glued to the skin. I walked into a small coffee shop because I needed to sit down for a while.
And there she was.
Mariana.
Sitting by the window, reading a book as if time hadn’t passed.
When he looked up and recognized me, he smiled barely.
—Daniel…
Listening to my name in his voice disarmed me more than I expected.
We stayed talking hours.
At first carefully. Then too easily. We remember nonsense: the cat that hated everyone, our absurd trip to Veracruz, the times we stayed awake watching bad movies just to not argue.
And then I understood something dangerous.
I still felt at home when I was talking to her.
We walked together along Paseo de Montejo until it started to rain. We ran under the trees like two idiots too big to act like that.
