Goodnight Nobody
He leaned back into his driver’s seat, closed his eyes, and waited to feel something for the dead man. If it was a pretty girl inside the dumpster, he… More
Last Night in San Pedro de Macorís
There’s only one ride left to the capital. One bar of soap left, one towel. That’s how fiction comes to life, you unlucky fucker. Why tell the truth? More
Travellin’ Man
Airports always pour a nice shot. Something about being that close to distance makes bartenders understand suffering. That Thursday he was headed fourteen cities away from anyone he knew… More
A Story in Which I Look Good
If he feels pushed, he will turn into a bull, a storm. If the world is not careful, he will lower his horns. I am not sure the men… More
The Cripple’s Last Dance
Dance, like any other art, is a form of worship, you see. One false move can break that fragile link between you and your god. I lost my legs. More
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