She knocks again.“Martín.” She’s never called me by my first name in real life. “Please, invite me in.”The street lamp casts a shadow of th... kitchen window on the wall behind me. Four lines like a cross, interrupted suddenly by the shape of a woman. When I turn to look at the window over the kitchen sink, the view is empty. Only the streetlamp outside.Then the shadow window behind me slides open. Witches, I realize, are not the politer set of monsters.“Don’t worry, Martín, I’ll let myself. It was gathered around her waist with a tie. She looked very sexy as she stood there, cup of coffee in her one hand, hair still slightly messed.“Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Bob?” Connie asked, very graciously, and yet seeming very confident standing there.“No” I replied, “no thank you, Connie…. But may I see my wife, please?”“Of course you can, silly” Connie said, “But I imagine that she’s still sleeping. She had a bit of a rough night and I’d hate to disturb her.”Those last words, ‘bit of. More

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