May 7, 2019

Black-haired, freckled-faced, Luisa’s blue eyes reminded those who saw them of wind and steel. She was kneeling down against the large refrigerator’s steel doors, the slow hum of its cooling mechanism quietly filling the otherwise silence of the small kitchen. Luisa reached for her glass of white wine, now warm, and stared nowhere in particular. The floor around her was dirty, with peels of garlic and slices of onions resting peacefully over the warmth of the mahogany floor. A few speckles of black squid ink rice scattered next to them.