Elias looked up, a manic grin plastered on his face. "I'm alive, Antonio!" he guessed at the name. "Are you?"
He started small. A low hum in the back of his throat as he passed the shuttered bakery. By the time he reached the park, the hum had sharpened into a whistle. But it wasn't enough. "I am here!" he suddenly shouted. Voy Gritando por la Calle
By the time he reached his own front door, his voice was a raspy ghost of itself. His throat burned, and his neighbors surely thought he’d had a breakdown. But as he turned the key in the lock, the weight in his chest was gone. The street was silent again, but the air still felt like it was ringing. Elias looked up, a manic grin plastered on his face