Bautista went to cut the power to the last resident

'Good morning, ma'am. Bautista Miralles, maintenance for the electric company. I'm here to disconnect the power on this street.'

'Come in, dear. It's the only house. Fresh milk or from the carton?'

'From the carton, thanks. See, the regional council came through in March and declared the village abandoned. Verdiales has had zero registered residents since 1982.'

'I'm registered in San Roque. I come here to sleep every night, and I have done since 1978. Forty-eight years. Doesn't that count?'

'Legally, if you don't live here, this house can't keep an active meter. That's what the order says.'

'Let me explain, son. In San Roque I keep my doctor. Here I keep my mother's bed and my father's well. In one I live, in the other I exist. I need the power for the existing.'

Bautista opened his case. He took out the red disconnection seal, set it on the table, sat looking at it. Then he put it back.

'I have three days to sign the disconnection. I'll come Friday. Get yourself registered here before then.'

'The town hall closes at two.'

'I'll go with you tomorrow.'

Elvira poured him more milk. On the side of the carton it read: best before September.