Tuesday, March 18, 2008

On the brightly striped bedspread, under the fan, its chain bobbing
with each exuberant arc, he opened the envelope. Inside was a
photograph. Her hair pulled back, shining in the sunlight, his arm
around her shoulders. Worn leather shoes, a carefully trimmed
moustache. They smiled at the camera. Who was behind it? Flowers
posed delicately upon the leafless branches of a tree. Hillside
faceted like glass, the cave’s entrance receding darkness. There was
a cabin with a palm roof, a boy perhaps five years old playing in the
dust. He turned the photo over. Carolina y Xavier, 1936. And a lock
of blond hair.

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