At My Husband’s Funeral, My Son Whispered Six Words

I’d put one in my safety deposit box at the Banamex on Avenida Insurgentes. One I’d given to Lupita in a sealed envelope and told her not to open unless I died. The third I kept on me at all times, in the small zipper pocket of my purse, the one Diego hadn’t bothered to look in.

He’d taken the keys. He hadn’t taken the purse.

Three Days After the Funeral

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