I stepped fully into the room, letting the door click shut behind me, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the quiet space. Gabriela was too lost in her grief, her shoulders shaking as she clutched a tissue in her hands, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
I took a moment to drink her in—the way her blouse strained slightly over her full breasts, the hint of cleavage visible at the neckline, the way her back arched just enough to make the fabric pull tighter across her ass.
Then, I spoke.
"I'm a friend of Brother Diaz," I said, my voice carefully modulated to carry the weight of sorrow, of urgency.
I let a tremor creep into my words, as if I were fighting back my own emotions. "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."
