Fiction
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I’ve never liked dogs. My nose twinges from allergies and my chest with repulsion—maybe guilt—if I get close to them. Despite this, sometimes I take one home with me. Driving back from work today,... -
The morning got off on the wrong foot. Or at least that’s how the orderly mind of Doctor Dusseldorff thought of it later on when she left the University. The building was old and frigid; the lofty iro... -
Before Helena you hated the piano. Every last Friday of the month you had to be there on the dot at seven in the afternoon with your hair neat, your flowing dress and your shoes well polished, at the... -
You’re floating in the room. You remember with bitterness that you were born a girl in a distant land where you weren’t allowed to be a boy. You fought to be yourself, but in the end, it left a bad ta... -
I was short three hundred dollars for my dad’s coffin and fresh out of ideas. I’d tried just about everything: listened to the insufferable lecture from the owner of the Boulevard Funeral Home about t... -
I put a spoon of honey on the window. I’m staring at it, really staring at it for a long time: the drop of honey softly settling in the hollow of the spoon, a glacier in slow motion, an amber developi... -
The alarm clock did its job, buzzing punctually at eight o’clock. How could such a small device make so much commotion? It seemed strange that Mariana wasn’t hopping out of bed to take a shower, make... -
They came in around three, when the musicians are still not tired and blow cumbias and corridos as if they had just started. At that hour of the morning neither we nor our clients are that plastered,... -
The kids were still sleeping, and Eugenia looked at the tiny hourglass measuring stitches of time in the kitchen with its fine white grains of sand. She knew she had to take the egg out of the pot. Sh... -
I always said I’d never go back to Mexico. Having lived the first twenty years of my life enduring the lack of the most basic services such as safe drinking water, regular garbage collection or even t... -
I intend this document to serve as corroboration for my prior statements: I would not change a single word. I assume that you will refuse to understand my motivations, but it would be nonetheless cour... -
Her real name is Nora (although it was necessary to rename herself Paula for reasons I will address further on) and she lives the better part of the workday inside a character 22 years her senior. Alt... -
He was getting used to being alone by now. It was his birthday, and not a single person had gone to see him, or even given him a call. Not that he needed any of that, although now and again he would r... -
The highway is a straight line. Cristobal drives in silence. It’s January and we are travelling south. Cristóbal’s grandmother has a little house in San Ramón. The sun hasn’t set yet. My back hurts. C... -
They say that Amelia and María Luisa Requena stayed together right to the end. They died within a few minutes of each other, just the way they’d been born. This came as something of a surprise, given... -
Hi Mom, how are you? Hope you’re ok. There’s one hour’s difference between Puerto Rico and Panama so it’s nine o’clock in the evening here. We’ve just put the baby down in his cot, he cried a coup... -
Let’s imagine a literary country, a country that doesn’t exist, that would have to be invented out of thin air like Macondo was invented, or Yoknapatawpha County, or any of those other places people b... -
I am alone and my skin falls from me. My teeth dislodge themselves, one after the other. This traitorous disease—I do not know its name—has unfurled itself over my miserable existence for more than a... -
An archer wished to shoot the moon. Night after night, tirelessly, he sent his arrows flying toward the celestial body. The neighbors began to mock him. Unmoved, he continued firing his arrows. He nev... -
Leaning on the starboard rail, the sailor seemed to be waiting for someone. In his left hand he held a white paper wrapping, with grease stains in several places. In his other hand he held his pipe. A... -
Theirs was a tempestuous love. They had cried entire nights, because of one another. They had hugged and kissed, they had bitten and hit, they had laughed, they had deceived, they had forgiven, they h... -
—Oh, my dear daughter, what a miracle it is to see you again! -
Señora Justina stared, as if hypnotized, at the portrait of that dessert, with strawberries and merengue, which illustrated (in all its color) the recipe from the magazine. -
Miranda Castro was, in her day, one of the most sought-after models in the United States. Despite her Latino surname, she had the look of a Scandinavian girl with that blonde hair, shimmering like whe... -
Ed grabbed his shotgun and leaned out of the window. The road was deserted. The galloping, however, went on.
