Catorce
Pedro Salazar lives each day as if it might be his last. But the highs are no longer as high, and the lows keep creeping in from the shadows—shadows that contain the crumpled body of an old Cuban man. To purge the image from his mind, he takes more drugs, becomes more reckless. Although Pedro realizes he’s a ticking time bomb, he can’t stop. Because if he does, he’ll be forced to confront what he’s done.
Maybe he should’ve phoned for help, provided comfort. Instead he left the old man to die in the street like a rat that crawled out of a sewer. Did that make Pedro a murderer? This is the question that forces him to seek out any substance to make his brain cells fizz like the bubbles in a glass of Champagne.
Finally he must put a name to what it is he’s feeling: Guilt.
Once the
