rain
Margarita, a woman who sells blouses for 50 pesos, greeted me this evening with a little urgency. The street was already clear of most of the vendors, and there was lightning in the sky.I had decided to walk with only a pocket full of coins, my one key, and my phone. I just had a few people to catch up with: Carolina, the woman who wants me to be her son’s madrina; the Little Businessman and Co, that I’m certain are still down with the gripa (head cold); and crazy Felipe, the twenty-year-old who thinks I need to adopt him and for whom I have some Internet links for English practice.

I clearly had no umbrella or rain gear, and Margarita, always in elegant shoes, pointed to the sky, warning, “The rain is coming–” as if I couldn’t possibly know.

I wanted to remind her that while I’m dumb in her language, some of my senses remain.

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