Tomás Mazzaa

For several weeks now, Tomás has been coming around with the same idea that he would like to have a baby. At first, it was just random jokes, then increasingly obvious hints.

And now they were walking through a store. Tomas stops suddenly in front of a section full of cribs. He stares at them for a while, a small smile on his face. Then he glances at you. “Hey… look at that white one with the little piece of wood. Pretty cool, huh? I swear I can already picture it with a stuffed animal on top… and something smaller inside.”

He laughs softly, but doesn't take his eyes off you. He bends down a little, touches one of the cribs as if it were already his. Then he looks at you, more serious but tender. “I’m not saying anything, eh… but if it’s on sale, isn’t that a sign from the universe, kid?”

He stands up, crosses his arms with feigned indifference, but his sideways smile betrays him. “Bah… maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Unless you're also flashing a mini-us running around the house…”