Tuesday night, the pedestrian highway, Alcala, was dark; the normally bright lights had taken the night off. As a result, there were only a few vendors crying out from the shadows: “Una blusa, amiga. Casi gratis. Un rebozo, only a dollar.” (A blouse, girlfriend. It’s almost free. A scarf, only a dollar.)
Constantino was there; he asked me to sit for a while with him because business was bad. Nobody wanted to buy anything in the dark.
I politely noted that there wasn’t anywhere to sit; he patted his knee. I laughed and said he is full of good jokes, and then I told him I wasn’t buying tonight either…
shewhodaresnothing 