small platform in a vine-choked tree not far away: we wore the green-gray cloaks, and our faces were stained with leaf juice. The smile lit her face and made her eyes dance. But I had no better suggestions to make. I was of course full of self-satisfaction.
Zoquitl’s lips twisted, into what might have been a smile. I’d never married or divorced. But that’s all in the past now. Her eyes, once dark blue, were now a faded turquoise, opaque as chalk.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.