It is a funny thing you know, to be alive with the knowledge that a relative or something (animal) close to you has died. Attachment happens to us all, as with bad luck and on any given day, it could be us in a body bag riding to the morgue.
There were mornings of mourning like this one for everyone and for Don Vicente, it only made sense that a man like him suffered loss too. For a reputation as hard as his, the people must have expected the devil to chin up or maybe just be unaffected, and that was it for him, the role he played to keep that reputation up, to stand in line not acting pressed or stressed, not being soft in the fore, before everyone else, before the men who looked up to him. it was the weight of the crown, it was a crown he wore well, despite the how heavy it was.
