At eight seventeen in the morning, three vehicles parked in front of the blue house.
Lucía was breastfeeding Emilia when she heard the first door slam.
Then another one.
And another one.
He slowly approached the window.
Doña Rosa was standing in front of the entrance hall with two enormous suitcases.
Behind her, Maribel was unloading bags, boxes, and toys.
Tomás was taking a television out of the car.
The children were running along the sidewalk.
They hadn’t come to ask.
They had come to settle down.
Doña Rosa knocked on the front door.
—Lucía! Open up!
Lucia took a deep breath.
Every movement still reminded her of the cesarean section.
But that morning she was not alone.
He walked to the door with Emilia against his chest.
—I already told you no.
Doña Rosa raised her hands.
—Are you going to leave your own mother out on the street?
—You have a house.
—Not Maribel!
Maribel appeared behind.
—It will only be until we find something.
Lucia looked at the boxes.
—They even brought a television.
Tomás burst out laughing.
—Well, we’re not going to live like animals either.
Then he tried to open the vestibule.
It was closed.
Her smile disappeared.
—Open up, Lucia.
-No.
Doña Rosa began to hit harder.
