I was burning up with fever and threw up every time they tried to give me something to eat or drink.
I was wasting away. I just lay there motionless, staring at the wall for hours on end.
I heard people around me talking. I understood everything they said, but I didn’t want to answer.
I didn’t want to talk. All I could think about was going to heaven.
Glória changed rooms and spent the nights by my side. She wouldn’t let anyone turn off the light.
Everyone treated me with kid gloves. Even Gran came to spend a few days with us.
Totoca spent hours and hours with me, eyes bulging, talking from time to time.
“It’s not true, Zezé. Honestly. It was all a lie. They’re not going to widen the streets or anything...”
The house was cloaked in silence as if death walked in silk slippers. No one made any noise.
They all spoke quietly. Mother spent almost the entire night with me.
But I couldn’t forget him. His laughter. His way of talking.
Even the crickets outside imitated the kechah, kechah of him shaving.
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