Short Fiction from Peru
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I accept, you fucking asshole, you tell him, convinced, impulsive like the fighter of the Pre-Colombian filigree before his ferocious destiny. And, from somewhere in the world, you hear the resounding... -
A scratch awakens him. Piece of shit cat. His body is soaked in sweat, as if he had a fever. He dries his face with the back of his right hand, which luckily isn’t shaking today. A coughing fit catche... -
One sunny Sunday, Fernanda decided we would spend the new year partying in Arica. Her father had bought her a four-wheel-drive truck when she enrolled in college, and despite the fact that she crashed...
