mpatient, Lúcia turned on the mp3, dragged the bed and practiced the choreography.

Marcos had just arrived with his mother and he could hear the loud sound coming from Lucia's room. Her mother came home. He looked to the sides of the street and crossed. He climbed the tree and stayed hidden watching her dance. He fixed his gaze on her bust that was held tight between the straps of the collar. The apples her mother had referred to were stored there, hard and tough and flashy. They emitted the most sublime emotions that aroused the greatest curiosity in any boy. The one that was secret, that only a man could unravel in the most special way that couldn't be with just a look. It had to be in the touch of his lips with softness and poetry.

He read them appreciatively like a beautiful poem, fascinated by the swiveling steps that the body supporting them took. He wanted them, he wanted to taste those apples, take the first bite, taste their juice, their nectar and feel the softness of their flesh. He longed deeply for her taste to go only to his lips and no one else.

His cell phone rang. He had to go down.

His mother was waiting for him at the window of the house calling her cell phone. He entered. He sat at the table and had lunch with his mother.

- Look - his mother caught his attention by putting two apples on the table.

He looked at his mother strangely.

- Two apples. What have?

- They are beautiful, perfect, round and big. It is rare to find this type of apple on the market. I love Argentine apples, they are the best. They look tough on the outside, but when you bite, you can feel their softness and don't hurt your gums. The best dessert. Prove it - Mayara said leaving the table.

Agitated, Marcos kicked, provoked by his mother.

- What kind of mother are you? - Said upset. - Who keeps offering apples to his son with dirty intentions, do you want me to commit a crime? - He spoke loudly.

- Would you commit a crime for some apples? - The mother shouted from the room.

- Yea. But not for these apples here,” he replied quietly.

- What? I didn't understand! - Mayara said when she didn't hear her son's voice.

- Anything! - He screamed.

***

The weather was changing. Gray clouds foreshadowed rain, but initially a strong wind blew. Lucia stopped and closed her bedroom window when she saw the fresh raindrops come in. She showered and then went downstairs to eat with her mother. The table was full of new preparations that Clarice had made following the vegan recipes she'd read in a book. Since the daughter had decided to follow this diet, she did not object. At first she was worried, but she got used to it, researching and consulting nutritionists. She worked hard and learned many tasty recipes to please her daughter and watch her more than anything grow in her studies in pursuit of her dream of being a great professional dancer.

He always tried to support her in her decisions. When she was a teenager, she practiced dancing herself. She danced classical ballet as a child, then bellydance and finally when she was about to be a professional ballerina she broke her ankle in an accident in rehearsal. At the age of seventeen she met her husband Virgílio who worked as a realtor. Soon they were married. Despite Clarice's parents not accepting the relationship. For she was still very young. But the pregnancy was the reason they agreed.

They were married until Lucia was twelve years old. The couple's financial situation was unstable. Clarice had to work and finish her studies and Virgílio could not find a steady job. He had dropped out of business school. Clarice had inherited the house from her grandparents who also helped to raise Lúcia and paid for her schooling. Virgílio was given the opportunity to travel to the United States and get a job there, and in time he was able to send a good pension to his daughter.

He was a good father when he was married to Clarice, but he had become exaggeratedly jealous of her when she had to work as a secretary and then graduated in nursing. The frequent fights did not sustain their love, so they parted ways.

Lucia began to eat, tasting the opulent meal that her mother had made.

- You are too much mami. It's all delicious, I can't take it. I think the best thing is to continue being vegan.

- The best thing is not to get sick eating restaurant food. Don't eat quickly, it's bad.

Clarice tasted and agreed with her daughter.

- Our! I did all this, I can't believe it.

- Now tell me the name of the recipes, because I don't know anything, I only know that I'm going to stuff myself here - Lucia said with her mouth full.

- Calm! Slow down daughter. Fried eggplant lasagna with potato cream, soy meat sauce and soy cheese. Mixed salad with vinaigrette and spices. Brown rice risotto. Steamed vegetables and leafy greens with extra virgin Greek olive oil. And creamy lentil soup. And finally the bomb that will leave you buzzing with energy.

- What is? Have more?

- Carrot juice with orange, spinach, cabbage and flaxseed.

"So I'm going to explode," she said, followed by a muffled belch.

- So I will definitely follow this diet too. It's not bad at all.

Clarice watched her daughter for a few minutes.all, how much it had grown. They are more friends than mother and daughter. Sometimes she catches herself watching her in disbelief that the girl in front of her was becoming a woman. She saw her more like a younger sister being accompanied by an older sister.

- Do your dance mates not bother you that you have more breasts than they do?

Lucia gasped when her mother mentioned this body part of hers. It was nothing new to talk about subjects that referred to female aesthetics or genetics. But they rarely had the chance to talk about dating or sexuality, not that it was taboo for them. Most of the time, each one was focused on their goals. Lucia in studies and dance. Clarice at work and in giving the best to her daughter.

"I never thought about it yet," she replied, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

- He knows. When I was your age and one step away from being offered the chance to join a professional modern ballet company, my peers were angry with me.

- Because?

- Now! It was because of my breasts. When I watched other dance groups perform, I didn't have a girl with bigger breasts than mine. I was even ashamed.

-Well so far no one has ever complained about mine - she said tilting her head to reach her bust.

- I remember how I suffered.

- Same?

- Same. It was boring to dance in pairs, the boys complained, they lost concentration. The other girls were like boards. They barely had any breasts.” She laughed.

- Wow! Yours must be killer! And they still are.

- And you inherited from Mom here a nice pair of melons.

- Mother? Ah... They're not that big. They are average, regular.

- Oh! How modest of you.

The two were laughing with the relaxed chat about each other's body parts.