Life on the Water

The morning wind swirled down cool and soft from the mountains, shaking the tops of the short pines on the foothills, stirring the dust at Ignacio’s feet and raising his hopes. He leaned back against the car, black and sleek, borrowed from his brother, and fingered the coins in his pocket.

Versos de mi Alma

I am sitting in my mother’s red Bonneville station wagon. Mamá’s hair is still black and long and flows over the back of the seat.


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Berkeley Fiction Review
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432 Eshleman, MC 4500
Berkeley, CA 94720



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