When Arturo enters his temporary home over the diner, Angel Rocco opens the door. “Police lady came by earlier,” the angel says gruffly, giving the young man an unexpected hug. “Made some soup for ya.” The angel lets go awkwardly, shuffling over to the rough wooden table. “Set yourself down.”
Emotionally and physically exhausted, the youth does as he’s told.
“Tough being back in a human body, ain’t it, Jason?” Angel Rocco sets down a steaming bowl of Cuban chicken with black beans.
.“Gracias,” Arturo tells him with genuine gratitude.
GraciasWithout ceremony, Angel Rocco puts out a place setting for himself, adding a basket of freshly baked bread and some butter. “Eat.”
For the next few minutes or so, they try and fail to enjoy their meal. The sound of a dog whining filters in through
