“You might have… mistaken him.”

“I did not,” Nilsa said, firm. “Nilsa stepped outside and saw a man knocking on the door of the house next door. No one was home. Those owners were always out. Before Nilsa could ask who he was or what he wanted, he turned around—Nilsa became a statue immediately.”

“Okay,” I said, clinging to hope anyway. “Even as a statue, you asked him what he wanted, right?”

“No,” Nilsa admitted. “Nilsa’s tongue became a statue too.”

I inhaled ...