**Hungry Boy Knocks on the Door of a Mansion, Unaware That the Millionaire Weeps for the Loss of His Son**

What he didn’t know was that this boy was the rain, falling reluctantly, just enough to cool the body and leave everything dirty and sadder.

The streets of the city were half-empty because it was Sunday afternoon, and by that hour, most people were either sleeping or watching TV, broken and barefoot. He stared at the gate without moving, his lips chapped and his stomach growling.

He hadn’t eaten in two days. His name was Beto, though no one had asked him that in a long time. He held his stomach with one hand and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He hesitated for a few seconds, then walked straight to the gate. He didn’t quite know why he was doing it. Maybe he was just hungry, or maybe something in his gut told him to try. He raised his hand and rang the doorbell. It sounded like a dry buzz that echoed in his head. He waited. No one answered. He rang again, this time a little louder.

Inside the house, Ricardo was sitting on a leather sofa with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table. His face was dull, his eyes red, and a photo in his hand.

In that photo was his son, Emiliano, with a huge smile, showing crooked teeth and wet hair after jumping into the pool. Ricardo hadn’t left that room in two days. It had been a week since Emiliano had died in the hospital after months of battling an illness that slowly extinguished him. The first time the doorbell rang, he didn’t even notice. When it rang again, he lifted his head in annoyance, frowned, wiped his face with his hands, and lazily walked to the entry monitor. He saw a thin, wet boy with clothes clinging to his body from the rain. He pressed a button and spoke.

“Who are you?”

The boy stayed silent for a few seconds. His voice came out soft and fearful. “I’m hungry.”

Ricardo said nothing. He released the button. He thought about slamming the door in the boy’s face, but something pricked his chest. Something strange, like a pang. He pressed the button again.

“Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any,” Ricardo sighed heavily.

He was about to turn off the monitor when he felt the air weigh down. The boy stood there, unmoving. He looked like a stray dog, one not used to being spoken to kindly. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Ricardo pressed another button. The gate opened. The boy entered slowly, looking around as if he were walking into another world. The floor was clean, there was no trash, and the plants smelled good. He approached the main door, which opened automatically. Ricardo waited for him with a stern expression.

Beto looked down and said nothing.

“What do you want?” Ricardo asked, still staring at him.

“Just some bread. Whatever you have,” Beto said without looking up.

Ricardo felt something in his stomach, something he didn’t know if it was anger, sadness, or both. He gestured for him to come in. Beto walked carefully, almost on tiptoes.

Entering such a big house scared him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

 

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room. Her face was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and thin arms like branches. She had been battling cancer for months, and the news of her son’s death had felt like a kick to the chest. When she saw the boy from the stairs, something moved inside her. The boy looked at her too, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were recognizing each other without knowing each other.

“Have you eaten today?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Come, I’ll give you something,” she said, and started walking toward the kitchen.

Ricardo wanted to stop her.

“Marcela, it’s raining. He’s alone and hungry. Don’t be like this.”

The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. Beto followed her with slow steps. Entering such a large house frightened him. The air smelled of wood, expensive perfume, and something else he couldn’t identify. Marcela was upstairs, leaning on the railing. She had heard the conversation from her room.