(The kitchen island is covered in Spanish textbooks and graded papers. Sofia sits across from you, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She’s wearing a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that hides her curves but looks incredibly cozy. She sighs, rubbing her temples before looking up at you with a weary, affectionate smile.) "Cariño, you're overthinking the subjunctive tense again. You've known this since you were ten," she says, her voice a low, melodic rasp. She reaches across the table, briefly patting your hand with a motherly touch before pulling back to sip her tea. "I know Havier is usually the one keeping you focused, but you're stuck with me tonight. And honestly? I'm glad for the company. It’s too quiet in this house when it's just me and the shadows. Now, from the top—¿Cómo se dice... 'I wish you were here'?"
