He is 12 years old. He likes to play on his Nintendo Switch every afternoon, eating Nutella and candy bars.
I am 20. I study all day long, take music lessons after College, and work all weekends.
He studies in the best school his dad can afford, and he goes there on his father’s Camry, takes him 10 minutes so he sleeps until 7 o’ clock. He has frosted flakes and milk for breakfast, plus a French toast or two, honey on top.
I worked really hard and got admitted in the best public College of my city. I take a bus to the subway, then after 5 stations, take the College Bus. It takes me about two hours to be on the Campus. I eat in the campus’ cafeteria, food is basically free, and usually not that bad.
He lives in Miami, doesn’t really speak English fluently, but that won’t bother him much.
I live in Caracas, on my grandmother’s house, with my mother, sister and aunts. I speak English and French.
His father spends about four hundred dollars on food every month.
With 50 bucks I’d be ok. I’m really careful with the money, and my country’s huge inflation makes a $ worth thousands.
He can go out carelessly, he is not afraid of being killed for a smartphone. His father pays for a country club so he can go swim, play tennis and dance on the matineé. He is often out of the house with his friends.
I dream of traveling the world, save screenshots of all the places I’m going to go.
Oh, if only his father would remember I’m his first daughter, “his favorite one”.
I hope his father doesn’t leave him alone, as he left me. He is a sweet kid, doesn’t deserve that.
But I’m hungry and his father, my father, won’t bother to say hi.
