Taking Lives
“The old man must have seen the mist in the trees most mornings of his life, seen it shift out of shape and drift through the headlights with the tar steaming below, but now he chose to stare at it; and Zulmira sat upright in the back seat. The two of them were sharp as scared animals.
Their daughter Isabel tried to take Zulmira’s right hand. She couldn’t break Zulmira’s grip on herself.
The hospital had the manageable look of a picture in a prospectus: oleanders, parking spaces, towers of glass.... But inside, it was frantic like a market, women in black, bags and bundles, a whole civilian population turned out to mourn its men in the wars: men cut up by machines, men whose hearts exploded or whose brains stopped because of the drink, men broken, men who wore out when they could least afford it. Every grating and corner was full of people waiting; the hard glass and tile of the walls had gone soft with cloth and eyes and hands.
Arturo wasn’t quite expected, was about to be shunted aside to wait in line for an office that could tell him which line he should wait in next.MoreLess
Their daughter Isabel tried to take Zulmira’s right hand. She couldn’t break Zulmira’s grip on herself.
The hospital had the manageable look of a picture in a prospectus: oleanders, parking spaces, towers of glass.... But inside, it was frantic like a market, women in black, bags and bundles, a whole civilian population turned out to mourn its men in the wars: men cut up by machines, men whose hearts exploded or whose brains stopped because of the drink, men broken, men who wore out when they could least afford it. Every grating and corner was full of people waiting; the hard glass and tile of the walls had gone soft with cloth and eyes and hands.
Arturo wasn’t quite expected, was about to be shunted aside to wait in line for an office that could tell him which line he should wait in next.MoreLess
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