That day in Málaga, no one yet knew what was going to happen.
Kalys was walking quietly, sun on his back, his mind light, and then he came across him.
A young Spaniard, warm eyes, confident gait, the kind who talks without opening his mouth.
They exchanged two words, no more.
But the air was charged.
Not your average encounter, no.
Something taurid, raw, like a face-to-face in the arena.
His tail would later disappear in all the holes of the term.
