*Trigger warning: this post references miscarriage*

The second Gregorio felt the baby’s hand, he knew Betty had miscarried her first child. The baby had been mischievous, hopping around the kitchen, making a racket, even knocking over a bowl. 

Gregorio had spent the early morning hours alone in the bakery mixing together kilos of sugar, flour and lard until his eyes drooped and his vision became blurry and he just needed 10 minutes on the flimsy metal cot that was set up against the wall for such purposes. No sooner had he laid down and closed his burning eyes than he heard some bothersome clicks and taps come from the sink. Then by the oven. Finally the pantry. But the cot felt delicious and the pillow was soft, so Gregorio decided he’d look into the matter after some rest. His body sank deeper into a cloud and just as he was about to doze... [read more]