—I was at the park with my dad… well, not with him, with his driver… and then I ran after a ball and couldn’t find my way back. I wanted to call my dad, but my phone battery died.
He held up the dead cell phone as evidence. Then, with an honesty that made Ana’s heart ache, he placed a hand on his stomach.
—And I’m hungry too.
Behind the girl, Doña Marta’s voice was heard, firm and protective:
—Ana, move away from the door.
The old woman was already a few steps away, still wearing her apron and holding a wooden spoon. Her eyes weren’t hardened, but they were alert. She had lived too long to blindly trust any story that came at night.
« Grandma, he’s just a child, » Ana said softly.
Doña Marta looked the little boy up and down. She didn’t see any signs of neglect, but rather nice clothes, expensive shoes, and a children’s watch that cost more than two months’ worth of groceries. That worried her even more.
« Sometimes they send the children first, » she said, still looking at the little boy. « They knock on doors, ask for help, and while one is distracted, others come after. »
The child’s eyes filled with anguish.
« I’m not lying, » she said, almost on the verge of tears. « I really got lost. »
The wind stirred the dry leaves in the yard. The street was empty. However, Doña Marta knew these kinds of nights well: the ones that seem peaceful until they aren’t.
Ana turned towards her grandmother, with that look that only children have when they still believe that goodness should always win.
—Grandma, please. You always say that if we can help, we should help.
Doña Marta let out a long sigh. Experience told her one thing. Her conscience, another.
In the end, he stepped aside.
—Okay. Come in. But you stay where I can see you. No wandering around the house. Understood?
—Yes, ma’am —the boy replied immediately.
He entered cautiously, as if afraid of soiling that humble home simply by stepping inside. The house smelled of vegetable soup, freshly warmed tortillas, and stale coffee. It was a small house, with worn furniture, patched walls, and a quiet dignity that needed no embellishment.
Ana closed the door and smiled.
—Sit here.
She pulled out a chair for him at the table. The boy sat down slowly. Doña Marta went to the kitchen, poured a bowl of soup, and placed it in front of him.
—Eat first. Everything else later.
The little boy took the spoon with both hands and began to eat with careful speed, as if he still didn’t believe that the food was really for him.
Ana looked at him, fascinated.
« What’s your name? » he asked.
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