12
Carlos
Thirty-five hours since Sedona left me.
Every minute, every hour, feels like an eternity. Every breath takes effort to pull in. Every heartbeat pangs my chest.
I hire a car to drive me from el D.F. to Monte Lobo. I always feel heavy when I return to my home, but this time the weight of it makes it hard for me to even move. This must be what it feels like to be one hundred years old, the ache of every year pressing on your bones. Except in my case, it’s the weight of every minute away from Sedona.
Every minute with my mind turning over our last moment together. I hate that she thinks I might be a part of the council’s idiotic obsession with my future offspring. I hate knowing Don Santiago triggered the trauma of her ordeal again.
But now I know with complete certainty—it’s i
