It was late, the clacking of weathered shoes echoed off the damp stone alley walls in the muggy summer air as a woman scuffled down the path. Above her head, she carried a withered wooden pallet of dough, waiting to be baked.
“Open the door por favor!” the woman shouted, sputtering out a strong spanish accent.
A shadow of a tall man swung open the door. “About time you got here Rosalita,” he said in a snarky tone.
“You have to close the store up tonight, I’m going home,” said the man as he patted his flowery hands off onto his once white apron.
“Pero, I need to get home to mis hijos señor,” she muttered out, staring at her scuffed black shoes.
The man left before Rosalita finished her sentence. She sighed and wobbled through the narrow doorway, trying to find her balance. All she could think about was getting home to her kids. She turned off the last light, locked the last door, and walked back outside into the darkened alley, and began her journey home to her kids.
The only light left to guide her home was the remnants of the sinking glow of the sun. The red, flowery pattern of her floor length skirt shone against the last beaming ray of sun.
Back at home, her four children eagerly awaited their mother’s return.
“It’s getting late. Why isn’t mom home yet? She’s always home before dark,” questioned Sofia, the littlest child, as her lip began to quiver, choking back tears.
“You know what? I’m going to go look for her, I’m worried too,” said David, the eldest of the four, as he slipped first his right foot and then his left into his sandals.
He was out the door within 10 seconds, and walked at a brisk pace. The sound of the rapid slap of David’s sandals echoed through the empty alleys. He had a very unsettling feeling as the alley grew darker and darker, until only the little sliver of the crescent moon illuminated all that it could of the stone path.
With shadows shrouding the path, the boy could barely see six inches in front of him. Unexpectedly, he stumbled over a large heap of something and fell to the ground. Angered by it, he got back up and tromped back over to the pile that got in his way.
David focused his eyes as hard as he could to see what it was. His eyes opened wide, and he started gasping for air. He felt like he was going to throw up when he realized that what he tripped over was his mother’s cold, lifeless body, right there, in the middle of the cold, lifeless alley.
Frantically he screamed for help, but no one was around to hear him. He checked her pulse for any signs of life, and shook her by the shoulders in a hopeless attempt for her to reawaken. Nothing worked. The boy laid his mother back onto the damp stone path, and sulked down with remorse and confusion against the cold dead wall, blankly staring into the night sky, lost.