The cabin was quite spacious inside and smelled of burnt cloves and cinnamon.
It reminded me of Christmas.
A controlled fire was burning in the brick fireplace, warming the cozy cabin. The decor made everything homey—bear rugs, pictures of young Simón and his grandma filled the wall, along with stuffed wild animals that weren’t as creepy as you’d think they were.
This was his grandmother’s place.
The place she brought him back to and raised him until she died. It was anything but the world he lived in—the kind of world we lived in.
It was pure country—scavenging for firewood in the forest outback. Hunting for food because you needed protein to stay strong in such a cold place. Getting closer with family because there wasn’t any technology to distract you from the closeness of buil
