August was awestruck by an explosion of color inside. The walls in the large living room/kitchen combo were a deep mustard yellow, the hood over the cooktop bright blue. A big red couch looked comfortable, two rainbow striped chairs inviting after the cheap airplane and well-worn taxi seating. Multicolored geometric patterned rugs faced every which way atop gray plank floors, and Abril herself wore a peach top with embroidered almost neon green vines and large, vibrant purple and magenta flowers at the neck and hem. Her eyes, deep brown like Memo’s, were wet and shiny. Happy tears, August wanted to believe.
“My sweet, little Guillermo.” She threw her arms around not so little Memo before he’d even stepped fully into the room. The only word August recognized after, despite a B-plus in Span
