Contd
Paloma Perez.
I get out of the taxi and rush across the road. My eyes go straight to the shaky signage of my mom’s bakery whose screws are squeaking in the breeze. The bell above the door jingles the moment I push it open, and there—like she was waiting the whole time, Laura launches herself toward me.
“I can’t get them to leave. Your mom is upstairs bothered by it, the customers left…”
“Palo, Palo!”
It’s Rufus. My eldest brother. The one with auburn hair, tall like a streetlight and has got the reflex of a ghost. When I was younger, I used to run into his arms like they were home. Back then, he felt like safety of a real brother. That was before he started making money from the kind of people you’re not supposed to know by name.
Also before his friends started looking at me
