At Frida's House
The smell of freshly cooked stew filled the small dining room. Frida moved quietly between the table and the counter, arranging dishes with care — rice, beans, and a small bowl of fried plantains.
Tulia and Cassy were already seated, waiting patiently but with that restless energy only daughters could have.
Frida placed the last plate down and smiled tiredly. "Alright, eat before it gets cold."
They ate quietly for a while, the sound of spoons clinking against plates echoing through the room.
Then Tulia broke the silence. "Mum, I saw a new Caffé opposite ours today. When did it open?"
Cassy lifted her head immediately. "Yes, Mum! I didn't even know there was a new Caffé across from ours!"
Frida sighed, her shoulders slumping. "We had new people move in there last week... and right after that, they opened their shop. Now all our customers are going there. We're losing business, girls — and fast."
