Ditto

Chapter 1: Life is good

The sound of sledgehammers broke the suffocating silence of the loft, dust swirling in intricate patterns as the planks of the assaulted wall fell to the ground with a clatter. Muffled voices could be heard through the rubble, and two figures stepped into the light of the newly created opening. One of whom, a long and lanky man wearing what appeared to be an oversized t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans, grabbed some swinging wires to allow the woman opposite him to pass him safely. He took off his mask, looking around at the vast space around him, only to be smacked upside the head by his wife.

"Wait until the dust settles, idiota."

Hector Rivera smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, pulling the mask back up over his mouth and nose. His wife moved into the light of one of the many windows lining the walls of their newly-purchased loft, the dust framing her like an angel. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, the dust settling onto it looking like light snowfall. She wore one of Hector's shirts underneath a pair of overalls, and although they were dirty and the overalls were ripped at the knee, Hector still found his breath catching in his chest, and not from the dust. He began to hum, a mindless tune, letting the emptiness of the rooms around him carry the tune over to Imelda, who had excreted a tape measure from her pocket and began to measure the space between the windows.

He strode over to her, letting his eyes wander and allowing his mind to fill the space. He'd keep his guitar in that corner, over there would be the kitchen, and that would be Imelda's workshop, and Coco's playroom would be nestled in that little area. Imelda had moved to the opposite corner of the loft, her boots clicking with each step and her fingers moving, measuring, calculating with an expert precision. Hector chuckled as he watched her, his eyes sparking with unabashed admiration. She had planned this for years, and she would sooner die than let anything go wrong. He reached her as she began to move away, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her into him, his lips parting slightly as he smiled down at her. Her instinctively cross expression softened slightly, and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"It's perfect, mi amor. This is going to be absolutely amazing."

Imelda's eyes flicked to the opposite wall, skeptical.

"It better be, or else I'm telling that cabr-"

Hector cut her off with a kiss, swift yet gentle. Imelda rolled her eyes, but he caught a hint of a contented hum leave her lips as they parted. She sighed, and looked around once more.

"Well, at least it's livable."

Hector chuckled.

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A month and a half had passed, and the apartment showed clear evidence of both Imelda's and Hector's influences. The walls were painted in practical colors, save for Coco's room, where marigolds bloomed up the walls and childish drawings adorned every surface. Music was everywhere; in Hector's prized guitar next to his desk, in the radio softly crooning in the kitchen, in the rhythm of the people in the house as they moved about their day. Light streamed through the newly cleaned windows,and landed on the few still unpacked boxes in the loft, betraying the orderly appearance of the rest of the loft. A babble of words came from the imagination of the little figure laying on the living room rug, playing with a very disinterested cat. Little Coco held a little dress out to the feline, who turned up her nose and began licking her paw. This did not deter the child, who crooned,