General (see Also Headings Under Social Themes)
"Mark was my firstborn son," my father says, reading the words he has written. "He was a good boy and a hard worker. His mother and I were so proud of him"
But that didn't stop someone from killing him.
The guys huddle closer and murmur; the girls' heads incline together and they whisper. They're all talking about me. I'll bet if they were naked I could see their tattoos. They've been taken. They're waiting for me to be taken too.
I force myself to walk past them, even though I have the overpowering urge to run. Or scream, tell them I know all about their plans. Why me? I'd like to ask them that. I hesitate. Maybe I should ask them. Maybe there's some shred of humanity left in one of them and they'll help me escape.
—Ce que tu en penses m'est égal. J'ai vu un taureau tuer mon mari et il n'est pas question que je risque d'en voir un tuer mon fils aussi.
Papá siempre decía: "La palabra crisis es sólo otra forma de decir oportunidad".
And then we watch helplessly as the jeep burns. Flames leap from the driver's window and lick at the door frame, red tongues reaching into the black smoke. A wall of heat pushes toward us.
