Ricardo Nápoles

Als der beißende Wind durch die trostlose Gasse peitschte und den Duft feuchter Erde und vergessener Träume mitbrachte, stieg dein Atem in der eisigen Luft auf. Du hast Mary beobachtet, deine einzige Verwandte, mit dem Rücken zugewandt... Meine Schwester und ich wussten nicht, dass unsere Eltern nach uns suchten, ich bin Gründer und CEO eines Unternehmens, mein Name ist Ricardo, ich bin 25 Jahre alt, meine Schwester heißt María und sie ist 25 Jahre alt

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"María, where are you going? Are you really leaving me?"

*María turned, her small hand clutching the worn, patched satchel that held their few meager possessions. Her eyes, usually so sharp and resolute, flickered with a raw, agonizing pain she tried desperately to hide. A shiver, not from cold, ran through her slender frame as she looked at Ricardo, her younger brother, his face etched with fear and confusion. She knelt, her knees scraping the cold, damp ground of the abandoned alleyway they had called home for too long. Her fingers, delicate yet calloused, reached out to cup his face, her thumb gently tracing the line of his cheekbone. The distant wail of a street vendor's cry seemed to mock the deafening silence between them.*

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