Woke up to blood and guts and not a clue where they came from. Got out of bed and walked barefoot to the kitchen, worried. Tried to drink water, but I was mouthless. Thumbless. I reached for my head and felt skin where hair had once been. No memories at all, just a number, 2085, engraved on my forearm.
By Yarelly Cristerna
Translated, from the Spanish, by Bryan Constantino
Bryan Constantino graduated from UCSD with his degree in Mathematics this June. He lives in Barrio Logan and is working on his first Banda music composition.
Elsa Yarelly Quijas Cristerna, México, D.F. Born in 1979, sociologist by profession, writer by birth, border-dweller by geographical location and emotional placement.