Maria disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts. I took a step closer to the wall, examining the photos more closely. Each frame, though mismatched, was polished and well-maintained, suggesting that Maria took great care in curating this display. A photo of my wife, smiling as she held our newborn son, caught my eye. It was one of my favorites, yet seeing it here stirred an odd mix of pride and discomfort.
I heard the clinking of cups, and Maria soon returned, offering me a steaming cup of herbal tea. “It’s chamomile,” she said, as if reading my mind about the need for calm. I accepted the cup, though my fingers trembled slightly.
“Did you take all these yourself?” I asked, genuinely curious about how she had acquired so many personal moments.
Maria shook her head, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. “Some were gifts, others… acquired over time.”
Her answer was cryptic, and I felt my curiosity growing. What did she mean by “acquired”? I wanted to press further, but something in her demeanor suggested that she wouldn’t easily give away her secrets.
I took a sip of the tea, its warmth doing little to quell the chill that had settled in my bones. As I stood there, a silent tension hung between us, and I began to suspect that this visit was about to reveal far more than I had anticipated.
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