old men were arranged with a patience that Gabriel did not expect.
They weren't spectacular tests.
They were remnants of a life on hold: repair receipts, medical notes from the pregnancy, family letters, and receipts from Adrian's first months.
Isabel took out three envelopes.
—After I received your supposed letter, I tried to write to you.
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Gabriel took a breath.
—I never received anything.
—I know it now.
She placed the envelopes on the table.
The three were headed to the house where Gabriel had lived during his first months in Madrid.
The three of them had returned.
Gabriel checked the markings on the mail.
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The first one had been returned because the recipient no longer lived there.
The second one had a similar notation.
The third one hadn't even been opened.
"I moved from that place shortly after the flood," Gabriel said. "My mother took care of forwarding everything to me while I worked practically day and night."
