"Life is hope", said Mary before closing her eyes.
Miguel, the sad boy who knelt at her bed could not agree any more. Not even a single tear he shed as her fourteen years old friend's eyes could be closing for the last time.
Alone in the city, the last one to be spared by the virus, Miguel, lied his head on Mary's open hand, determined to never wake up again if she didn't.
Yet, one hour later, a new sun appeared on his dim dirty window immersing the room with the faded ochres of twilight, prompting the old boy of 11 to live...
...and tell his story...
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