The laundry lines became battlements. The drainage ditch was the Scamander River. The rusted fire escape was the Skaian Gate. The rival building across the alley—Altamurano 47, home of the cruel Rodriguez brothers—became the Greek camp.
For one week, the alley was Homeric. Old Man Lapu narrated their deeds from a broken chair. “And Hector of the Tenements smote the giant Rodriguez with a rubber slipper!” he’d cry, and the children would cheer.
The brawl lasted four minutes. Hector got a bloody lip. Chucho lost his cape. Lucia bit an ankle. But they did not run. They did not break.
Big Mando laughed. “What are you, a ghost?”