The Bronx, Azuay, Ecuador

 

Finishing the pineapple juice, I tossed the plastic cup in the trash and left the park, headed towards home. A side street disgorged a troop of teens, chattering in Spanish, eyeing each other sidelong. Schools take a long break for almuerzo here, and it looked like they all planned to eat together. They broke in half, ahead of me and behind. One had juggling clubs and plastic rings protruding from his backpack. One had her hair flipped over to the side, covering one eye. For just a fraction of a second, time slipknotted on itself and I was a teenager, leaving school with my friends, on my way to the diner to hang out.

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