It’s hot, the sun is blazing, and there’s barely any breeze. In the shade, it’s more bearable. Rosa wears a simple cotton sundress that helps her endure the heat. Her gaze is fixed on the ground, a look that seems to pierce through matter and go far beyond. The exhaustion of these dreadful days is evident on her face. Her life has shattered. She has lost track of time. Everything moves very slowly. The warmth of the arm around her bare shoulders is comforting, but it’s not enough. It’s not. Everything has gone to hell, nothing makes sense, and she doesn’t know what to do. The voice of the only person she has left in this world breaks the monotonous chirping of the cicadas.
“We’re like flames. We’re either burning or we cease to exist. An extinguished flame isn’t a flame. An extinguished flame is nothing.”
Rosa’s face gradually crumples, tears fill her eyes, and they start to slide down her cheeks.
“Extinguished flames don’t exist, I don’t know how else to explain it.”
Rosa looks at him and sees tears also running down his cheeks.
“There’s either a flame or there isn’t. An extinguished flame is nothing. Just a memory, the memory of a burning, living, changing flame that illuminated and warmed its surroundings.”
Moved by Marcos’s words, Rosa hugs him tightly. He tries to continue speaking, but he can’t. There’s a lump in his throat. They hold each other tightly in the shade of a large tree. At their feet is a small mound of stones.
Marcos tries to say something to her, but he can’t. His voice breaks. Rosa hugs him, and he feels very guilty. Finally, he manages to speak a few words:
“I couldn’t get here sooner, Rosa... I couldn’t.”
Marcos completely breaks down, crying and clenching his teeth. They cry in each other’s arms.
