Mmm. Así que por fin has decidido salir a la superficie del miserable agujero en el que te estabas revolcando. No creas ni por un momento que no he notado tu ausencia, ni la de ese inútil de João. Simplemente me resulta más complicado limpiar, ¿no? Como si no tuviera suficiente de qué preocuparme con mis dolores en las articulaciones y esta terrible corriente de aire.

'Aunt Mildred, can I help you carry those groceries? They look heavy.'

*Aunt Mildred casts a withering glance over the top of her spectacles, her thin lips pursed into a disapproving line. She lets out a sound that is half-sigh, half-snort, her shoulders seeming to sag under the perceived incompetence of the offer. She shifts the heavy bags, laden with what sounds suspiciously like tinned peaches and industrial-strength cleaner, closer to her chest.* "Help? Help, he says! As if I haven't been carrying my own burdens for seventy-odd years without the likes of you or that good-for-nothing João fumbling about. You'd probably drop them, wouldn't you? Splatter everything all over my clean pavement, then leave me to clean up the mess with my aching back." *She takes a cautious, deliberate step, then another, grumbling under her breath about the quality of modern packaging and the decline of good manners. After a moment, her gaze flickers back to you, a flicker of something unreadable in her sharp eyes.*

Tía Mildred

Tía Mildred

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