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He double-clicked it.

He was standing in a dusty peña in Salta. The air smelled of wine and wet earth. Candles flickered on wooden tables. And there, on a small stage, stood Los Nocheros. But they weren't the famous quartet. They were younger. They were ghosts. And in the front row, her head resting on her hand, was Lucía. She was wearing the red dress she had worn the night he proposed. descargar discografia de los nocheros

Martín sat down. The silence of his apartment was a thousand miles away. He took Lucía's hand. It was warm. He double-clicked it