The man continued, his eyes fixed on the photograph.

“Two years ago, Emma was walking home from school alone. Three blocks, just like your daughter. I worked late, my wife did too. We thought it was safe. It was a good neighborhood. Nothing ever happened.”

He stopped. He took a deep breath. María could see how she struggled to maintain her composure.

“One day she didn’t come home. We searched for her all night. The police, the neighbors, everyone. They found her two days later in a vacant lot five kilometers from here.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Not even the birds dared to sing.

“Since then, I can’t walk past a school without looking. Without checking that the girls walking alone get home safely. I know it’s wrong. I know I look like a stalker, a predator, exactly the kind of person I should be protecting them from. But I can’t help it.”