The house, that house that once a year was flooded with candles, laughter and birthdays, but which, despite everything, was always sinister even in the celebrations.
I remember when Marquitos-that was the name of one of the children invited to my birthday-discovered a thread of blood next to the lemon tree. We thought he just wanted to mislead us to get the biggest piece of cake. However, we began to believe him when we noticed that his face was pale with fear as well as being smeared with meringue.
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