Articles

El Míster

El Míster

Señora Pérez’s house was too small for the four of us to go inside. El Míster and my abuela waited out front. My mom and me sat at the round table in the corner of the kitchen, my mom stabbing the rotary dial with her index finger. Sra. Pérez sat on her sofa watching a …

Standing Still

Standing Still

Just enough Luis knows I’m not in love with him, although he’s never asked. I can tell by the way he fits himself around the space where the question would go, always aware of the outline of it, the sharp edges that would catch and cut him if he got too close. Some days I …

Pacific Boulevard

Pacific Boulevard

Today the blinds are open, no matter how hot it is outside. Mom and I look down all twelve floors. My brother’s red car, the size of a pack of cigarettes, parallel parks between a motorcycle and a pickup truck. When he gets out of the car, he’s the size of a matchstick. Some girl …

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