“Diogo!” Rafa darted from place-to-place, calling out with the other ghostly black figures covered in chalk-colored dust. People crawled among the fallen homes and rubble littered streets throughout the Mocambo. They stared fixed-eyed, attending no particular thing, their breathing ragged, hair filled with broken bits. An acrid cloud spewed from the city, hanging low in the sky like scum on water. Rafa held his hand to his mouth, as he made his way through the barrio.
Rafa struggled toward home. His cries joined the choruses of others’ in search of lost loved ones.
“Diogo! Diogo! It’s Pai. Call out to me. Let me know where you are. I’ve come for you.” Rafa rasped over and over, his voice hoarse. “Come home, Diogo. Meet me there.”
PaiRafa peered into each open doorway, their roofs caved
