It was true that, at first, the most important thing had been financial security. But he also knew that all that time, as his daughters were growing up, he’d been hiding. Limiting his contribution to an exhausting job from Monday to Saturday. And now that he had nothing material to contribute, he felt useless and excluded. His wife was much better than him, and she was right when she threw his lack of resolve in his face. It was logical for her to be tired of taking charge of everything. And all he could do was crack jokes and play games with his daughters. He couldn’t think of anything to do but act like a playmate, one you casually and miraculously meet in a park but don’t know if you’ll see again the next day.

“How do I look? Not too formal?” he asked, adjusting his tie. He was wearing the blue suit, white shirt, and brown tie that he always wore to work interviews. He felt suffocated, and he wanted to run away. Every time he had to go into an office he felt the same thing: the urge to flee.

Simona smoothed his eyebrows with a thumb, the way her mother did whenever they were tangled.

“You look so handsome,” she blurted, so effusively that she turned red.

“My little monkey,” he said, tousling her hair with one hand.

He stood up and started to climb the stairs. At the top, another door awaited them.

“How do I look?” asked Pía.

“You don’t matter,” Simona told her. “Dad’s the one who matters.”

They rang the second bell. They waited for a few seconds and a man appeared, ushering them in with effusive politeness. Simona watched him with surprised interest. He was a very handsome man, like her father. But his beauty was different. He had dark hair, a sparse beard, and an earring in one ear.

“Casting?” the man asked her father, who replied with an uncertain “Yes.”

“Come in, come in,” he said, leading them to his desk.

The place itself caught Simona’s attention, too. No doors leading to offices, no secretaries. It was just a room in an old house. Enormous and open, with a very high ceiling. Beyond the desk hung a white cloth, and tripods, cameras, and spotlights were set up in front of it. It didn’t look anything like the other companies they had visited, but, Simona thought, that must mean something good.

The man settled into an executive chair lined in white leather, and the three of them sat in some plastic chairs that were modern and uncomfortable. He pressed his hands together as if he were about to pray, and began: “Well, then, let me explain how this works . . .”