The following morning, Roger made the most painful decision of his life.
He closed the pigpen doors and walked towards Mag Tipo’s small house.
Without saying much, he returned the keys to the former owner.
Maпg Tiпo looked at him with concern, but said nothing.
Roger turned around and slowly descended the mountain path.
He didn’t look back even once.
For him, the farm no longer existed.
The following years traпscυrrieroп coп traпqυilidad.
Roger and Marites moved to Quetzaltenango and found work in a small factory.
His life was simple and stable, although it was far from the dreams he had imagined.
Whenever someone mentioned pig farming, Roger would just manage a slight smile.
“I simply gave my money to the mountain,” he used to say.
I spent two long years.
Then, an unexpected phone call changed everything.
At the beginning of this year, Mag Tio returned to put himself in contact with him.
His voice trembled on the other end of the telephone.
“Roger… you have to come back.”
“There is something you must see in your old pigsty.”
Roger felt that the coпfυsyп was interested in his пterior.
It had been five years since I had climbed that mountain.
But there was something in Mag Tio’s tone that was urgent.
The following morning he began the journey back to Carragla.
The dirt road that led to the mountain seemed almost forgotten.
The grass had grown thick along the path.
The trees were encroaching on the road as if reclaiming the land.
Roger walked slowly, his chest heavy with uncertainty.
What could remain of the place he abandoned?
Had the pigpens collapsed a long time ago?
Perhaps only rusty roofs and broken fences remained.
The climb seemed longer than he remembered.
Every step he took brought with it memories he had tried to forget.
Finally, he reached the last curve before the farm.
Roger suddenly stopped.
Sυ corazóп comenzó a latente más rápida.
Because what he saw in front of him left him completely paralyzed.
The mountain that I had descended…
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