calls from Ximena, no tension clinging to the walls. Only the distant sounds of the city and my own breathing.
In December, Tomás came to dinner. He brought cornbread and a plant that, according to him, “could withstand anything.” We laughed. Marcela arrived with her usual over-the-top salad. We ate at a small, unpretentious table, but no one humiliated continue reading …
