THE LITTLE FLOWERS IN her window had not yet withered, but they wouldn't take long to do so. Three days had passed since she stopped watering them.

     The neighborhood continued as usual. Silent mornings, afternoons, and evenings passed unnoticed.

     This was a special morning, as a new weekend began. Even a couple of sparrows had arrived to sing and perch on Don Chaim's growing acacia tree in the yard. The perfect musical company for such a tranquil morning.

     "Vita, open the door, come on!"

     "Yes, you'll miss out on the tamales Mrs. Lucrecia sent!"

     "Vita! VITAA!"

     The shouts had scared away the sparrows. The two ladies who had previously gathered were standing in front of the house that no longer had life inside, but they were unaware of it. Their calls in the early morning, accompanied by occasional knocks on the door, had turned them into what they had sworn to destroy: irritating neighbors. The calm morning was ruined.

     Mr. Chaim, who lived right next door, couldn't help but hear the commotion and came out to see what was going on.

     "Doña Orfelia, doña Camelia? What's all this racket so early in the morning?"

     "Don* Chaim, you won't believe it," began doña Camelia. "The girl who lives in this house has been giving us morcilla all morning! She won't open the door or even answer."

     "True! Also..." doña Orfelia began speaking but paused for a moment to look at doña Camelia. "And this? Where do you get those strange words from?"

     "How! Don't tell me you don't know." Doña Orfelia replied, only to confuse her neighbor even more.

     "I think she's using Spanish," interjected Don Chaim.

     "She's Spanish*? Camelia! But since when?"

     "No, not her, the expression she used." he cleared.

     "Oh, Don Chaim, why did you speak up? You should have let her believe I'm Spanish." Doña Orfelia said, humphing as she fixed her collar.

     "I doubt she would have believed you even then," said doña Orfelia's husband as he approached his other neighbors with his little daughter, who was actually his granddaughter, but since he raised her, he considered her more like his daughter.

     "Mama, you don't look Spanish!" the girl confirmed.

     "Alright, that's enough, we understand." Orfelia huffed.

     No one said anything. Doña Orfelia didn't seem to be upset, but they couldn't be sure. Doña Camelia suppressed some giggles that escaped her from their conversation, and Don Chaim, realizing where they were, finally remembered why he was there.

     "What are we doing in front of... Vita's house, did I hear correctly? Is that her name?" Don Chaim brought back to the initial thing he wanted to ask when he arrived.

     Doña Orfelia shrugged.

     "This one says yes," she said, referring to doña Camelia.

     "That's what the guy from the 03 told me." Doña Camelia replied.

     The guy from the 03. Was he the only one who knew her?

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* Don: n. (Spanish) Mister, used to refer to any old man, married or not.

* She's Spanish?: She'r referring to Spanish from Spain, which is spoken differently from Spanish in Latin America.