Bed with no sheets

I smoke a cigarette under the linden tree. I smoke, almost swallowing it. It is a warm November night and the kids are in bed. There is silence. I glance toward the house, all the windows are dark except for mine. As in so many other nights, I imagine myself talking to you. I tell…

The woman on the bus

She answered the phone she carried attached to her belt as her bus crossed Coronel Diaz Avenue. She said yes, it was her, Mara Pereira, and asked who wanted to know. Then her face turned red and she bent her head. She lowered her voice and, almost whispering, said that Paula had told her she…