Diego thought about the night before, about the first breaths of morning chasing them from that old abandoned building, his arms twisted around her waist, finger’s trembling against the soft skin of her hip as they stood within the ruins of a war Liliana would never understand.
Laekan Zea KempLiliana stood staring at the posters, filling in the dark silhouettes with worn, grey faces. She imagined her mother, eyes dark and vacant and staring back at her from her place among the other disappeared. She pictured her not as a still photograph but as a moving image, trapped within the silhouette and trying to break free.
Laekan Zea KempShe smiled, her arm grazing his as one of her fingers hovered over the wet paint. She pressed down, absorbing some of the liquid and then she touched the tip of Diego’s nose. He jolted, not from the slick trail running down his skin, or even the harsh chemical smell of it, but at her touch so light and yet so deliberate. She stared at him, waiting for him to react, but instead he ran his thumb across the wall and then trailed the cold paint down her neck and across her bare shoulder.
Laekan Zea KempThe air suddenly seemed to recoil from Diego’s lungs. While Liliana’s memories trickled in through the safety of her dreams, his came in a frantic pounding wave, all at once, bitter and stinging, and if he let himself get caught in them, in the torrential swelling that knocked him breathless, they would pound him and tear him and break him into a million pieces.
Laekan Zea KempHe wondered what it was like for her to be reading about what happened instead of having lived through it—seeing the war in fading calibrated text instead of in blood.
Laekan Zea KempThe word skirted her to a halt. She had never heard anyone describe her as being impulsive. That implied some kind of excitement, a boldness that Liliana knew she had never inherited from her mother. But as she looked toward the faint glow of the city, every light pulsating as if it were lit by her mother’s flame, she realized that over the past few weeks it wasn’t routine that had been guiding her, but desire.
Laekan Zea KempDiego smiled, bottom lip between his teeth, as he took a step toward Liliana. He lingered there, long moist breaths cascading down her cheekbone, before gently squeezing her hand and leading her toward the lights of the city.
Laekan Zea KempLiliana ran her fingers across the indentions and in the dim light, she felt as if she were trying to read Braille. Some of the letters had already been smoothed over by time, almost invisible to the naked eye until you pressed the tips of your fingers against the cold stone. But the scrolling of other names was still deep and sharp, carved with the intention of never being erased.
Laekan Zea KempShe’d already scanned every word a hundred times, absorbing every nuance in gradation and every stray mark of her mother’s pen—from the depth of the tip’s indentions to the way she strung entire sentences together as if she’d written them in a fury, every letter deep and dark and manic.
Laekan Zea KempHe had seen her glowing silhouette slip past his window and had watched her as she stood there, completely still, arms tangled in the breeze as if she were weightless, as if she wasn’t even in her own body. When she’d stepped to the edge of the dock, that’s when he started running. And then she jumped.
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