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I returned to Carmona without warning on a Thursday afternoon, expecting the usual smell of my mother’s garlic stew and the scrape of my father’s chair against the tile, but instead I found them carrying grocery bags toward the back of their own house while strangers laughed behind the living-room windows as if the place belonged to them. 027

I parked two houses away and followed at a distance, confused until my parents passed their front door without even…