“I didn’t want to scare her. Either of us. I just… needed to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” María gripped the phone tighter.

The man looked down. When he spoke again, his voice trembled.

“That she’d get home safely.”

The Story Behind the Man in Black
Maria didn’t understand anything. The man opened his wallet and took out a small, worn photograph. He held it out to her carefully, as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

In the photo was a little girl. She was about Lucia’s age. Brown hair tied in two pigtails. A big, spontaneous smile. Navy blue school uniform.

“Her name was Emma. My daughter.”

The man’s voice broke as he said those two words: my daughter.

Maria felt the ground shift beneath her feet. The “her name was” echoed in her head like a relentless thump. She slowly lowered the phone.