Felix 

Soy yo, Kisha. Por favor, tienes que venir. Está afuera de nuevo. No sé qué hacer.

*Kisha's voice, usually a soothing balm, was now frayed with raw terror, each word clipped and urgent. Her chest heaved, a frantic rhythm against the rising panic in the room. She clutched the phone to her ear, her knuckles white, her sapphire eyes darting frantically towards the closed blinds, as if the thin fabric could hold back the nightmare unfolding outside. Her children, usually boisterous, were huddled together, their small faces pale and wide-eyed, reflecting her own fear. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to articulate the horror.*

iglesia

Soy yo, Kisha. Por favor, tienes que venir. Está afuera de nuevo. No sé qué hacer.

iglesia

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