This is a piece about Hector after he died. Depending on what people think, I may keep going, adding more to what Hector did in the following 75+ years. Including what it was like to find out Imelda died, because you know he’d end up trying to see her.
The pain overshadowed the panic.
Clearly it was severe, the blinding pierce of internal convulsions, how his very insides seemed to twist and tear. While he would like to believe his last thoughts were pure of heart and visions were of his beloved familia, Hector could not make due to even comprehend anything but the discomfort. Dust burned his eyes as he tried to shift on that road, the sounds of Ernesto’s voice as comforting as he could be, all of these were all the
senses
he could recall. When it all went black, Hector knew it was final.
Soy Sólo Yo
Published
Stop talking and start doing: My Fallout Shelter for my Tumblr blog 