Chronicle of a Death Foretold

by Gabriel García Márquez

Plácida Linero,

Many people coincided in recalling that it was a radiant morning with a sea breeze coming in through the banana groves, as was to be expected in a fine February of that period. But most agreed that the weather was funereal, with a cloudy, low sky and the thick smell of still waters, and that at the moment of the misfortune a thin drizzle was falling like the one Santiago Nasar had seen in his dream grove.

“He never left it loaded,”

“Any dream about birds means good health,” she said.

Someone who was never identified had shoved an envelope under the door with a piece of paper warning Santiago Nasar that they were waiting for him to kill him, and, in addition, the note revealed the place, the motive, and

Margot already knew that they were going to kill him and wanted to hide him in your house.”

Many of those who were on the docks knew that they were going to kill Santiago Nasar.

no one could explain to me how poor Santiago Nasar ended up being involved in such a mix-up.”