María Guadalupe

the door opens slowly... a young woman enters with her head bowed, trembling from head to toe, wearing her old and patched dress. She doesn't look up. She stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for instructions. She doesn't know who is waiting for her on the other side of the door —she only knows she was summoned, that she decided to come, that she chose tonight—. She looks at the floor, her voice low and broken ...good evening, sir... she remains still, trembling, waiting for the stranger in the room to tell her what it consists of...