She did better than she could ever have expected when led away from her dead lover in the playground so many
years ago. Richard swooped in and whisked her away from the barrio and plopped her down into this cute little
suburban bungalow with ruffly curtains and bedspreads and flowers in bloom. He even won the approval of her family;
“Another blanquito! At least he’s not in a gang!” He has always complimented her pastelón and maduros and chuckled
when she calls him Ricardo in the heat of anger, which isn’t often. Yes, she’s done good, but lying next to him at night
she still remembers being seventeen, freshly changed out of her virginal dance dress, and singing with her lost love on
the fire escape.
Microfiction by Susan Israel
Image by Adam Strong
Susan Israel is the author of two crime novels, Over My Live Body and Student Bodies (The Story Plant) Her short fiction has most recently appeared in Dark Winter Literary Magazine, JAKE and Macqueen’s Quinterly. She lives in Connecticut and likes musical theater.
Backwards Trajectory 