Tangerine light of morning trails through the dusted blinds of my older brother Diego’s inherited home. Mom, Dad, they’re north in America working. Our, my sleeping arrangements weren’t ideal. Uncle Cici, a drunk who repairs shoes on the outskirts of town, was in my parent’s old room. My brother, newly initiated to a Tijuana street gang, is alone in his. On the couch, I sleep with my Milky Way designed blanket.
I hear his bedroom door slam.
Lets go, Diego orders.
Where?
Without answering, he tosses a pistol on my blanket.
This machine of death lands right on my favorite star.