Uпa mañaпa, Ѕп sirvieпte me coпtó qυe había estado de pie eп lo alto de la escalera eп pleпa пoche, coп los ojos abiertos, siп reaccioпar.
He had been holding me, soaked in sweat, preventing me from falling.
He looked at me and said, almost desperately:
See? I wasn’t wrong.
I was afraid, of myself, of what was hidden inside me. But I also saw something new in my fear: I wasn’t going to let it break me.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked.
“Because if I fall asleep,” he said, “history repeats itself.”
One night the light went out. In the darkness, for the first time, I took his hand. He didn’t let go.
I whispered: “What if I’m scared?”
He answered as if it were an oath:
“Then I will continue watching until morning.”
And that same darkness revealed another secret.
He was ill. He didn’t have much time left.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he said, “in this house… in this world.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“So you bought me?”
