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If Quico had some money to spare — if it had been a good week and Papa was happy enough to press coins into Quico's hand and tell him how proud he was of him for his school work or his diligence in his chores — he would sit on the bench outside the shop which sold the best sweets and watch the world go by.
There were always so many people going about their day, so many people crossing paths who might not do so again. Every so often there were people who knew each other and their worlds crossed over for a moment, waving and chatting away about their latest news.
Quico watched them all as his small bag of sweets grew lighter. Then, when he still had half left, he would tuck the bag away and keep watching the people until he could put off going home no longer.
The bench was where he could still imagine that tonight would be another good night, where his father would have cooked dinner and would be waiting to ask Quico about his day.
Those were the best days.
But they made the worst days hurt all the more.
Here, on the bench, Quico could forget for a little while that his Papa was sick. He could forget about the nights lying awake and wondering what he could do to make sure the next day was a good day. He could forget about finding another bottle, empty or nearly there, hidden behind the sofa or under the sink.
But he couldn't hide there, in plain sight, forever and so eventually he had to leave his spot and make his way back home. Hoping that tonight was another good day as he wrapped his hands around the bag of sweets in his pocket.