Daniela wanted to shout at him to come back,
but the words got stuck in her throat.
The street child looked up
just as Mateo arrived.
For a moment,
the two looked at each other in silence,
as if they recognized something
that no one else could see.
The barefoot boy extended a small hand.
Mateo took it.
And they both smiled the same:
the same angle at the mouth,
the same slight tilt of the head,
like a reflex.
“Hello,” said the street child
in a soft voice
that belied the hardship of his life.
“Do you dream about me too?”
“Yes,” Mateo replied excitedly.
“Every day.”
Daniela approached slowly.
My legs felt loose,
as if I were walking on sand.
He watched as the two children compared their hands,
how they touched each other’s hair,
how they laughed
with a confidence
that cannot be learned in an afternoon.
