“Go on, help yourself; I can wait.” There was a large bowl of colorful, cooked peppers and a plate of stone-ground tortillas on the small table in the alley.
Anna wiped her hands on her apron. That sheet looks dry, she thought. “No, no fish today Elena, I’m sorry.” She spun around, catching the bowl of peppers just before they spilled on the ground. “Miguel! The dogs!”
The strain left Anna’s hair coarse, nails ragged, but she never complained.
“Take this to Luis. He hasn’t eaten in two days.”
“But it’s the last one, Mama! The last one!”
“Miguel. What do we count at night?”
“Go now. Kiss the virgin on the way.”
The table in the alley stood empty. A few new stains on the covering were all that remained. Anna dipped her finger inside the large, empty bowl, finding a small bit of poblano pepper. She smiled as the dogs approached her, their tails wagging in a cloud of gathering dust.