*Norah*
The air shimmers differently as night begins to fall. I measure the night by the absence of heat, a skill I've learned long ago. Today, I've remained in my self-imposed exile.
When the sun moved away from directly above me, Diego brought me a tortilla wrapped around beans, rice, and meat. He awkwardly placed River's hat on my head, and tears I had been holding back surfaced. A man made love to me, and I have little knowledge of his appearance. I'm not concerned with his actual features; what matters is that his secrecy reveals he doesn't trust me completely, that he withholds parts of himself. Without trust, true love seems impossible.
Yet he managed to captivate me with his whiskey-like voice, stories of loss that touched my heart, and a respect no other man has shown. I hear
