Talib agreed; Sultana and Estelita proposed a toast to the end of the war, and Yaqub’s return. Neither joined in: the tinkling glasses and the restrained euphoria had no effect on the twins. Yaqub merely held out his right hand and greeted his brother. They barely spoke, and this was all the more strange in that when they were together, they looked like the same person.

It was Domingas who told me the story of the scar on Yaqub’s cheek. She thought an insignificant jealous spat had caused the attack. She always watched the twins’ smallest movements, listened to conversations, spying on everyone’s privacy. She was able to do this because the family’s meals, and the shine on the furniture, were her department.

My story, too, depends on her, on Domingas.

It was a cloudy Saturday, soon after Carnival. The children in the street were getting ready to spend the afternoon in the Reinosos’ house, where they were awaiting an itinerant film projectionist. On the last Saturday in each month, Estelita told the mothers in the neighborhood that a film would be shown in her house. It was a real event. The children had lunch early, dressed and perfumed themselves, and went out dreaming of the images they were to see on the white wall of Estelita’s basement.