David doesn’t know, and I don’t think I know either. I’d like to think Alonzo was thinking of his grandmother and Estrellita as he dropped the knife and threw himself defenseless at David. But when I close my eyes and look, it won’t come to me. And David doesn’t trust his own perceptions. He knows better now. I leave it to the reader to come up with a satisfactory explanation.

Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot. jamesfinnwrites@gmail.com

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