COLLECTING THE STEPS

“How is it that such a pretty young lady with such a pair of little angels walks around this region so full of dangers?”

“I was visiting my grandfather; he lives in the mountains.”

“It's good to go back to the country, to know the roots; besides, as an old man, you don't know when you will see your loved one for the last time; tell me, I haven't seen my daughter for a long time.”

“And that, is it, that you are angry?”

“No, miss, it's just that some criminals killed her. And she had two granddaughters who were taken by an uncle who refused to allow me to see them. It was very difficult; that's why I went to the country with my wife until she died. Now all I have left are memories of my life—of what I did, what I didn't do, and what could have been. Although the truth is that I'm not from around here, I'm retracing my steps. I know that the bone is breathing down my neck; although I'm still afraid of the uncertainty of the afterlife, I also long for it because this body no longer respon