The curtains.
The man enters the house from the backyard. In the kitchen, he takes the shirt off and puts it inside a bag. Then, cleans the blood that had splashed his arms and his face.
The image of the knife and the body buried together. The man goes to the bedroom and lays on the bed, thoughts in the shape of justifications, alibis … How to meet the daughter, what to tell in the everlasting absence of the mother.
But, that afternoon, the daughter had arrived early from school.
The curtains have eyes.
****