"I know what I saw."

For a moment, Julieta looks at her daughter and sees her brother.

"I know what I saw," Bruno insisted, standing in her kitchen, arms crossed, stubborn expression on his face. They were younger then, before Julieta had been distracted with children, before Bruno had been worn down by the weight of expectation and disappointment. He'd still believed that one day the villagers would like him again, that they would realise he was not the cause of tragedy, merely its messenger.

Julieta wasn't as hopeful. "Are you sure it couldn't have meant anything else, hermanito? Maybe it was only the fields that flooded? Or Pepa having a really bad day?"

Bruno stubbornly shook his head. "The whole village will flood, Juli. Houses are going to collapse. We need to tell people, so they have warning."

"Bruno." She placed her hand over his, clasping his fidgeting fingers in hers. "If you tell them, they won't like it. It's going to be a disaster."

His shoulders slumped, arms uncrossing, hand sliding into hers the way it had since they were young. "I know."

"Are you sure it couldn't be anything else? Anything at all?" she pressed, desperate to save her brother from the hatred she knew would come.

He shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. "I know what I saw," he repeated, but this time, it was empty, hopeless.

Julieta reached forward, hugged him, held as tight as she could, but she knew something inside her brother had cracked, and even she wouldn't be able to heal it.