After she takes the picture she asks me. But she doesn't really ask me, she tells me, "I want to go to another bullfight. Tonight."
I don't understand this, but I don't question it either. I'm relieved to hear her suggest something. To hear her voice.
I'll go again, I'm willing.
"We need to get to Puerta del Sol," I say. I reach for the map, but before I get a chance to unfold it she's off.
From behind she looks like a different woman. Her long hair sways from side to side as she walks down the street. I stay a couple steps back, letting her lead.