The sunset flares behind a row of brownstones, linking them as if by a flaming ribbon. lourdes massages her eyes and begins walking with legs that feel held by splints.
“i’m glad to see you, lourdes. you for everything, hija, the hat, the cigars. you buried me like an egyptian king, with all my valuables! ” jorge del pino laughs.
lourdes perceives the faint scent of her father’s cigar . .
“where are you, papi? ”
the street is vacant, as if a force has absorbed all living things. even the trees seem more shadow than substance.
“nearby,” her father says, serious now.