Clara
The name on the screen stays there, illuminating for an instant everything that I am trying to keep under control.
I want to answer, God... I want to do it. But I can't, not now, not here. Not in the face of this and even less so after what happened last night.
I squeeze my lips slightly and with an almost automatic movement... I turn the phone. Screen down, silence. As if with that I could pause everything that is happening outside this room.
I look up and continue. As if nothing happened... But it's not like nothing, because now there's something else.
Something beating underneath all this, something that shouldn't be here.
I will finish my speech, I will answer one last question. And when silence falls on the table...
Mr. Bustamante leans back slightly in his chair.
Their
