Slouching deeper into the vinyl booth, one hoof propped on the opposite seat, Alberto chewed lazily on a basket-sized taco that leaked orange grease onto the paper liner. He’d escaped the resort to nurse both his appetite and his sanity; Connor had been turning the whole vacation into a one-man reality show, and the donkey’s patience was rubbing down to the quick.

He squinted over the rim of his glass of horchata, eyeing the figure heading down the sidewalk like someone approaching the edge of a very bad idea. It took him a second to place the face; hard to recognise someone when they weren’t attached at the hip to his son, yapping about something dumb or trying to take selfies in front of the nearest palm tree.

But there they were. Alone for the first time on this trip with no Connor in sight. That was new. Looked like somebody else also seemed to be fed up with El Señor Spotlight.

He leaned back in the booth with a soft grunt, chewing the last of his al pastor taco like he was trying to buy himself time. Figured if he waited long enough, maybe they’d walk right past and he wouldn’t have to get involved in whatever Connor had done this time.

No such luck. He caught their eye, and with a deep inhale, a swallow of his food, and a long sigh, that was that.

“Dios mío,” (My God) he said, mostly to himself, dragging a hand down his face. He raised his voice enough to get their attention, rapping his knuckles on the metal railing,

“Eyo—gettin’ your steps in or runnin’ from my son’s nonsense? Don’t tell me he finally pissed you off enough to run.” His voice was casual—almost amused, sure—but there was a flicker of concern under the laziness, like someone who’s seen this kind of thing go sideways before. A tired half-smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he gestured loosely to the open seat across from him.

“You want food or just someone not currently filming a ‘beach thirst trap’ on Instagram to talk to?”

The donkey scooted over, the bench squeaking under his weight, and nudged the spare basket of chips toward the edge of the table like a peace offering. He cracked another tired smile, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt as a breeze rolled in.

“I didn’t expect to be your… eh, vacation chaperone… but here we are.” He paused, eyebrow raised. “But yeah, I’m guessin’ things are goin’ real great with my son, huh?”