Our Share of Night

by Mariana Enriquez

The green was awful, beautiful, so many shades that it was unfair to call them all by the same name.

Bradford thought, one had to thank Perón, a man he should hate but who inspired only indifference in him, even a little admiration—he didn’t feel class conflict or any economic impact because the members of the cults of the shadow are always close to power, and as such are almost always untouched by social fluctuations.

He did that when his father was in a very bad mood, which in the past year had been more and more frequent, to the point that Gaspar had started to miss him, as if that man who lived in his house were someone else, someone who was ever more silent, violent, and distant.