I’m a single mother to a little boy who’s quite shy and needs a lot of attention. His name is Ares, and he’s three years old. His father left when I told him I was pregnant. We live in a modest apartment. Across the hall, there’s another apartment — Alexandre’s. He’s a little older than me, probably around thirty. He’s single and doesn’t have children. He works as a firefighter. As for me, I’m a florist in a shop two streets away from our building.