But what froze Alejandro in place was the boy’s stillness.
The girl rocked him gently.
“Mateo… it’s okay… I’ll keep you warm,” she whispered, trembling. “I’ll keep you warm, okay?”
Alejandro’s world narrowed.
He approached slowly, kneeling without realizing it. The girl lifted her face. Her eyes were enormous, red, emptied of tears as if she had already cried them all.
“Sir… please,” she said again. “We don’t have parents. Mateo hasn’t eaten since yesterday. Today… he didn’t open his eyes anymore. He’s so cold.”
Alejandro reached for the boy’s neck. His fingers shook. At first, nothing.
Then — faint. Fragile. A pulse.
“He’s alive,” Alejandro breathed. “He’s alive. Barely — but he’s alive.”
The girl’s mouth parted. “Really?”
“Yes. We have to move now.”
He dialed 911, voice breaking in a way it hadn’t in years. But waiting felt like watching sand slip through a broken hourglass.
“I can’t wait,” he muttered.
He scooped the boy into his arms. Mateo weighed almost nothing. That lightness hurt the most.
“What’s your name?” he asked as they hurried.
“Valeria.”
“Valeria, stay with me. Don’t let go.”