Excerpt from La Sombra Del Viento, C. R. Zafón:

When I stepped out into the street, it seemed to me that the blackness was dragging me along the pavement, spreading through the heel of my shoe. I pressed my pace and did not slow down until I reached the apartment on Santa Ana Street. Upon entering the house, I found my father sheltering in his armchair, with a book open on his lap. It was a photo album. When he saw me, he stood up with a look of relief that took a huge weight off his back.

— I was already worried — he said. — How was the funeral?

I shrugged, and my father nodded gravely, dismissing the matter.

— I made something for dinner. If you want, I can warm up and...

— I'm not hungry, thank you. I ate around.

He looked me in the eyes and nodded again. He turned around and began to pick up the dishes he had put on the table. It was then, without knowing why, that I approached him and hugged him. I felt that my father, surprised, hugged me too.

— Daniel, are you okay?

I squeezed my father tightly in my arms.

— I love you.

(p. 340-341)