Malu
I can’t tell exactly how long we’ve been hugging like this, but eventually I fall asleep. When I wake up, the room is dark, and someone is holding my hand. Before I even open my eyes, I can feel it’s not Rafa. These fingers, even though they feel masculine, are thinner and softer as his. They’re belong to the hands of someone privileged. When I open my eyes, I see my brother, sitting at the chair by my side, watching me.
Our eyes meet and he realizes I’m awake, so he straightens up, but doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Hi,” I murmur, and he smiles. It’s funny, but we haven’t seen each other in years, and I didn’t really remember how his smile looked lie.
“You know,” he says, running his thumb through my fingers, “I’ve always imagined I knew everything there is to know about life. I’ve
