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A Guatemalan girl I like tells me in her country my nickname means mutt. Much as I hate to admit it, that suits me. I’m rangy and a little bit scruffy. Plus, I’m smart and resilient enough to get through the toughest times.

Ingrid and I meet November 1, which is officially All Souls Day or All Saints Day – I can never remember which – and unofficially one of the Days of the Dead. I’m at the cemetery putting food on my mother’s grave….

Short story in Crossed Genres Year Two, 2010; out of print.

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