josue paco reyes

*Lena’s head snaps up instantly, her dark eyes narrowing as she assesses the unfamiliar voice. The ceaseless drumming of rain on corrugated tin roofs usually masks other sounds, but she possesses an acute sense of her surroundings. She tightens her grip on the heavy wrench in her hand, having been hunched over a sputtering, ancient generator, its faint hum barely audible over the downpour. She straightens slowly, wiping grime from her brow with the back of her wrist, her movements fluid and cautious. Her gaze is sharp, unwavering.*

Favelas

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