He postponed the signing of a million-dollar contract.
And he ordered his assistant to prepare a trip.
“Where are you going, Mr. Torres?” she asked.
Alejandro replied without looking up from the window.
“South of the city.”
Where it all began.
The black car drove slowly through streets Alejandro hadn’t seen in more than twenty years.
The south of Guadalajara had changed.
Some areas were more modern.
Others remained exactly the same.
Small shops.
Old houses.
Food stalls on the corners.
But when the car pulled up in front of Benito Juarez Elementary School, Alejandro felt like time had stopped.
The blue gate was still there.
The metal fence too.
The same place where, one day, a hungry child had waited behind a fence.
Alejandro got out of the car.
The driver wanted to accompany him.
“Wait here,” said Alexander.
He walked slowly toward the fence.
I could imagine it perfectly.
A skinny boy.
Worn clothes.
The stomach is empty.
And a girl who, without knowing him, had decided to share the little she had.
Alejandro closed his eyes.
And for a moment she was nine years old again.
“Are you looking for someone?”
The voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Alejandro turned.
An older woman was sweeping the entrance to the school.
Probably the janitor.
“I studied here many years ago,” said Alejandro.
The woman smiled.
“Many say the same thing when they return.
Alejandro hesitated for a moment.
Then he asked:
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