Thora didn’t expect to meet Santi right away. But she didn’t expect to spend an hour actually attempting to crochet. As she fumbles with her needles, she tunes out Maria and the others, listening intently for a baby’s cry. She hears nothing. Of course Santi would be quiet, even at three months old. She imagines him serenely contemplating the universe from his crib, and her anger with him builds until she stabs herself in the finger.

The others leave one by one. Thora can tell Maria wants her to go. “Would you like another coffee?” she asks pointedly.

Thora has had three. Her hands are already shaking. “No, thank you.” She looks up, feeling nauseous. “I was wondering, do—do you have any other children?”

Maria gives her an odd look. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought I heard a baby.” She follows it up with an unconvincing grin. “I just love babies.”

She’s barely even fooling herself. She waits to be thrown out. Unexpectedly, Maria laughs. “I’m sorry. You just really didn’t seem like the type.” She stands up. “Yes, I have a new baby. Come through and meet him.”

They enter a dark room. As they move toward the cot by the curtained window, the absurd suspense makes Thora want to laugh. Maria picks up a swaddled shape, impossibly small. “This is Santi,” she says. “Would you like to hold him?”

Thora fights the urge to run away screaming. She holds out her arms.

She has held babies before: Estela, and Oskar, and Andromeda. But this is different. Thora knows a moment of pure panic, as she feels the warm weight and knows she is the only thing between him and falling.

The doorbell rings. Maria turns. “I’m sorry, I have to get that—do you mind—”

“Oh—no, it’s fine,” Thora says, while her mind screams, No, don’t leave!

Maria hurries off, leaving Thora with the baby.

He looks up at her with wide brown eyes. For a moment it’s Santi as she has known him, trapped in this helpless form like a fly in amber. Then it’s just a baby, cooing and wriggling in her arms. She tightens her grip to stop him escaping. “Now, now,” she says quietly. “I only just found you. You’re not getting away from me that easily.” She starts humming, the song she doesn’t know if she learned from him or he from her. By the time Maria comes back, Santi is smiling.

“He likes you!” Maria exclaims. “How strange. Usually he’s very fussy about who holds him.”

Thora looks into his face, lets him hold on to her finger with his tiny, strong hand. “I’m honored.”