They were not yet father and son in the form
simple as Gabriel would have wanted.
They were two men learning what could be built after nineteen years of someone else's lie.
And inside the house, Isabel stored the old letters in the metal box.
She didn't throw them away.
She never hid them again either.
On top of them, she placed a copy of the new property documents.
For nineteen years, a letter had served to separate them.
Now a different kind of role left something completely different in their hands: the possibility of deciding for themselves what to do with the time they still had left.
