Hialeah skies have never seen a pigeon as handsome as you, Maceo. Rare is the hen who could ignore your splendor once your flight path has crossed hers.
Jesenia juts out her lips as she runs her tongue over her teeth. She probably tastes chalk—she wrinkles her face at the tang of it. She does not answer the nun, but stands and walks to the arched entrance of the church. She cups her hand and says, I’m so totally sorry but I’m freaking gonna die if I don’t. She leans down, drinks from the holy water.