Today, around 11:00 AM, Clara returned home after a 4-month business trip.

Nobody spoke for a while.

Then, as if something invisible were unleashed, the words began to flow. Disordered. Sometimes rushed. Sometimes with awkward pauses.

Explanations.

Errors.

Bad decisions.

Intentions twisted by fear or clumsiness.

Clara listened.

Not everything.

At times he would get lost.

He would come back sometimes.

But little by little, the complete picture began to form.

And it wasn’t exactly what he had imagined with the broom in his hand.

It wasn’t treason.