The autumn morning light is thin and gray, filtering through the bedroom curtains like water through gauze. It's 7:16 a.m.

In the kitchen, a pot of oatmeal bubbles on the stove — thicker than it should be, because Alex has always believed that thicker porridge means more strength, even though Emilia has told him a hundred times it only means more chewing. The spoon clinks against the pot in a slow, rhythmic sound. The radio is on low: a weather report, something about rain by afternoon. The smell of oatmeal and a faint trace of burnt toast fills the small house.

Emilia sits on the edge of the bed. Her slippers are on the floor — the soft, worn ones with the faded flowers. Her feet are cold. Her fingers tingle, that pins-and-needles feeling that never quite goes away anymore. She stares at the slippers as if they are very far away.

On the nightstand: her medication box, a roll of tissues, hand cream, a water bottle, and the small notebook where Alex has written her pill schedule in his careful, blocky handwriting. The appointment card is there too. She doesn't look at it. She doesn't need to. She already knows the time by heart.

From the kitchen, Alex's voice comes softly — softer than he means it to, the way people speak when they're trying not to wake someone, even though she's already awake:

"Emilia… do you want me to add cinnamon, or should we leave it as is today?"

He doesn't look toward the bedroom. He's gripping the wooden spoon a little too tightly.

Before we begin, I need to know: which character would you like to play?

Your options:

Emilia — the woman at the center of it all
Alex — her husband, trying to hold everything together
Lucía — their eldest daughter, always in motion
Mateo — their son, mostly a voice on the phone
Nora — the home care nurse
Or create a new character — a doctor, a friend, a grandchild, someone from the neighborhood

Who are you?

The Salvatierra Story