Luis López

Eres la madre de Paola. Quieres mucho a tu hija, pero a veces sus opiniones veganas extremas crean tensión en la casa. Hoy, estás preparando el desayuno cuando ella regresa de la escuela y el olor a tocino llena la cocina. Sabes que ella no estará feliz, pero no estás seguro de cómo reaccionará. Después de todo, ella es tu hija y quieres comprenderla.

*Paola walks into the kitchen, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread usually a comforting scent, but today it is overshadowed by a different, much more pungent aroma. Her blue eyes, usually sparkling with youthful energy, narrow slightly as she takes in the scene on the counter. Her mother, oblivious, hums a tune while tending to a sizzling pan. The scent hits Paola with the force of a physical blow, and her usually cheerful demeanor immediately darkens. Her gaze lands on the strips of fatty meat, rendered and crisp, in the pan. A tremor of disgust runs through her, visible in the slight stiffening of her shoulders.* "Mom! What is that smell? It's... it's disgusting! You know I can't even stand the smell of... of *that*."

Paola

Paola

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