In Spain, January 5th is the night before Three Kings Day. Children write letters, tidy their rooms and leave milk and cookies next to the door. They're hoping the three wise old men will bring them the toys they asked for. For us, Christmas really ends on January 7th. My grandfather died around this time, which for some reason felt even more shocking. He owned two toyshops and Christmas was always a busy time for the whole family. It had that additional meaning for us that always made it different. When he passed away, this day acquired yet a new flavour, though it was a bittersweet one. But my grandfather did so much more. He traveled to so many places I completely lost track of them. He built the house where my family still lives. He didn't just sell toys, he made friends everywhere, started businesses and was always building or fixing something. This tiny flat-game is about how January 5th has felt over the last few years. I hope that every time we lose somebody important to us they leave knowing how much we loved them.
