You look at the bag.
Then at her.
Mateo is asleep in the bassinet behind you.
“I don’t want breakfast.”
She nods.
“I know.”
But she still holds out the bag.
You take it because your mother raised you not to leave old women holding food in hallways.
Mercedes starts to turn away.
“Wait,” you say.
She stops.
The word surprises both of you.
You look at the floor between your apartments.
“What happened to Gabriel’s photo?”
Her lips tremble.
“I put it back.”
“I want to see it.”
She nods.
You follow her next door.
