“How was your day today?”

“Prrdur gramphlig,” came the answer around a mouthful of potatoes.

“Mariano, don’t answer your mother with a full mouth,” chided his father wearily over the stack of papers in his hand.

“Bushigodlmpharg,” he protested, only to be answered with a stern look. Rather than press the issue, Mariano shoveled in the last of his meal, gulped down enough water to wash it down, and strained to swallow.

“Don’t do that, dear. You’ll choke,” his mother warned.

With a small gasp of triumph, Mariano concluded, “I’m fine mom. See. Can I go up to my room now?” Before his parents could finished exchanging glances he was off to the stairs, then up to his room.

Eager young eyes found the viewfinder while nimble fingers worked the focus. The details of the house next door came into sharp focus. A swirl of activity rushed past the windows of the front room. One rather large man seemed to be giving orders. Even across the yards, Mariano could feel the tension, and it sang to him.