Life for Chaves was a simple rhythm of hunger, friendship, and misunderstandings. His best friend was Quico, the plump, spoiled boy from apartment number 14, whose mother, Dona Florinda, was a fortress of starch and indignation. Quico had a toy battleship, a three-piece suit, and a vocabulary full of boasts. Chaves had a piece of bread, a ball of string, and a heart full of imagination.
"But... my barrel..." Chaves said.
The worst days were when Seu Madruga, the landlord, came looking for the rent. A tall, slow-moving man with a thunderous voice, he would stomp through the courtyard. "Rent! I want my rent!" Don Ramón would hide behind the water tank. Dona Florinda would slam her door. And Chaves? Chaves would freeze inside his barrel, holding his breath, praying the giant footsteps wouldn't stop. They always did stop, right by the barrel. Seu Madruga would glare at it, sigh a deep, weary sigh, and move on. He never looked inside. It was as if he knew some secrets were better left in the dark. chaves