Rest In Peace, And Other Lies They Tell
A woman dies in the Colonia, and the neighborhood suddenly remembers her fondly. I don't. Some truths don't get nicer just because someone stopped breathing.
The Ultimate Compliment
A neighbor's offhand compliment becomes proof I escaped my mother's script entirely. On being told you're nothing like the woman who raised you.
The Neighborhood Council Files ~ Hidden Agendas
Our first general assembly. His last attempt to lie his way back in. He brought friends, canned speeches, and a hidden agenda. We brought receipts.
The Body of Evidence
Neighbors in Guatemala remember my mother as "El cuerpo." A force of nature. A woman they speak about in awe. I inherited her face. I'm trying to figure out if I also inherited the thing that broke her.
Photographic Memory
There is a black & white photograph of me that has persisted in my memory for decades. Let me tell you about it.
