The muchachita ruffled through her box and brought out a stack of white papers… “I’m sure you will find plenty of passion in this story.” She waved the stack of pages as if to get the older woman’s attention away from staring at the mirror. “But it doesn’t come with any pictures… “

… the old woman replied and gazed toward the door… “promise me you’ll stop as soon as my family get here.”

Zoraida remained silent while removing the pistol from under the band around her waist. “Thank you, Papa,” she said and released its magazine. Counting the remaining bullets in their chamber, she added, “My father gave me the gun with only four bullets… Hopefully, I can get more when we return.”

Do you think the guard was… was killed?” Bertelina stuttered

From dust to dust
Stirs the wind
And a seed
Becomes dispersed

When landed, is sown
Upon the ground
Nurtured into a tree
Inspiring a forest