Little Night
Monserratt Sandoval

The crickets host a party, but I'm never invited. So instead I climb up the steep hill. The swift
sand spills between my toes as I approach the bridge. Two beams flash across my face from
the headlights of a sputtering car that should've been retired long ago. Gleams of sweat gently
slide down my temples. It's nearly pitch black, but the sun's fury is still near. Now the road lies
still...The crickets turn up the music. All the tienditas have closed their garages and the sleeping
street dogs pant, wishing for a cooler night. I cross the road and descend from the hill. My feet
almost fly off the ground as I dash through the night, back to the sand beneath my feet. My
heart pounds, screaming at my ears. In the back there's soft laughter being lifted through the air. A warm glow slowly spreads across my face. I squint my eyes to see all my tíos and tías looking
at me. I walk past the open gate onto the uneven cement of the so-called driveway. Smells of
instant coffee and fresh pan dulce engulf everyone's words. Pupils dilate, as my eyes fixate on
an ojo de buey. The front door step lies empty, so there I sit. Watching mouths give and return
conversations, I take a bite into my bread.