“Go, Rose. And if you don’t come back, I wish you well.” I nod. Press my eyes closed. Listen to his heart as we sway in the summer sun. “And take the raccoon with you. She keeps getting into the churro batter. Do you know how many batches I’ve thrown out?” I laugh, though it’s half-hearted. When he pulls away, José frames my face and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you like a daughter, pequeño gorrión. That will never change.” “I love you too, José.”
