He was home.
"Mi nieto lo dejó cuando se fue al norte," Don César said, pulling up a folding chair. "You asked donde jugar . The answer is here. For two hours, after school. You help me clean the filters, you play for free."
There, humming like a secret, was a refurbished Xbox Series S, its white shell glowing softly. A 144Hz monitor was chained to the desk.
"Bueno?" the old man asked.
But today was different. Today, Don César, the café’s octogenarian owner, had winked at him. "Ven," he said, leading Mateo past the dusty PS2s and the gutted Xbox 360s to a corner he’d never noticed.
He played until the screen blurred. When he finally looked up, Don César was watching, a small smile on his weathered face.