41

My cell phone played a constant whistle as I balanced myself on the bed with the heavy suitcase. Kendall had just entered the bathroom of the room we would share, and sang louder and louder a song that existed only in her wrong language. At the first moment we entered the room with pink walls, completely foldered floor, and padded and angled backrest bed, next to nightstands that merged with the same pale color of each piece of furniture scattered over the amplitude of the room, we were in shock.

My closet was the same as in childhood, only two doors attached to the left wall, surmounted by golden notches. Everything was too clear for me. Too childish for my personality, and I almost threw up when I noticed the floral print quilts.

There was a dressing table in the corner of the room, next to the huge window covered by pink curtains. The chair in front of a small face mirror was soft and with spirals drawn on the backrest, as if it had been handmade.

We had been locked in that room sin