For the first time I saw that Totoca was almost crying.
“That’s why I think Jesus Christ only wanted to be born poor to show off. Afterwards he saw that only the rich were any good...
But let’s not talk about this any more. What I said might be a really big sin.”
He was so distraught that he didn’t even look up from the horse’s body that he was now stroking.
Supper that Christmas Eve was so sad that I didn’t even want to think.
Everyone ate in silence and Father only had a little taste of the French toast.
He hadn’t shaved or anything. No one went to mass. The worst thing was that no one said anything to anyone.
It was more like the Baby Jesus’s funeral than his birth.
Father fetched his hat and went out. He left without saying goodbye or wishing anyone Merry Christmas, in his sandals.
Gran pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes and asked Uncle Edmundo to take her home.
Uncle Edmundo put five tostões in my hand and five in Totoca’s.
Maybe he wanted to give us more but didn’t have enough.
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