by Sam Ramos

Excerpted from Fiction Number 64 (2019).

THE TRUCK STARTED to move. Though they couldn’t see where they were going Marcelino knew by the dips and curves of the road and by a sense of space and longing exactly when they left La Gloria into the outskirts that would bring them north. Mari, curled in Graciela’s lap, said she wished she had a hundred cages with a hundred green and red and yellow parrots in them. The parrots would sing and talk, and when she let them out of the cages they would pick her up and carry her wherever she wanted.

The drive was long and took them just south of the border to Matamoros. Marcelino slept most of the way, except in small moments of waking when the voice of a little girl crept into his head and told a story about a parrot, bright green with claws like the hands of a beautiful woman, that could carry all of them away, out of time and into an enriched Heaven they’d only ever been able to imagine.

The full story can be found in Fiction Number 64. Please follow the subscribe link for information on ordering.