I smile at both, looking into the cup. I stood and up so fast, knocked over the plastic chair. There at the bottom of this tiny cup, outlined with chocolate resin, was my sister and her baby. Could see them clearly as the chocolate resin slid down the cup, saw them moving as well. Will see that type of movement when I witness the Mona Lisa at the Lourve in Paris years later. Tia Josefina handed my wife her cup. Tia Jose as I call her. Smiles at me, and says your sister's baby was born an hour ago, while you two had dinner with me. You have been worried about her the whole night, and she and the baby are fine. My wife gushes as is her irritable habit, turns her cup to me, look honey, it's us kissing. She turns to Tia Jose and mumbles why there is a jagged line running through our image. Wife asked softly, did one of us pass away? Tia Josefina whispered, "No, it's worse, your love for each other died." Wife makes a sad face, now tears well up in those big Spanish