I saw that Rafael had plugged up the holes in the door again. A month ago, Mama G had used his drill to bore a series of five-centimeter-wide holes near the bottom of the door. She said it let "the spirits" inside. As far as I could tell, the spirits amounted to nothing more than a cold breeze on the ankles. But to Mama G, they were real—old friends who shouldn’t be forced to wait and knock. Hence the holes.