The blow came from behind, cracked his nose and various colours thudded in his eye. His hands cupped the blood. We doubled a towel, yelled herido. I thought ER and X-ray. But who was it, people said, didn’t someone report it? They wanted—and we did—an Antes to the story, some verity of beginning to give clarity to El Fin.
Dear stranger, dear anger, dear fantasies of justice, please ferry us to the lake where all the stories are clear.