They alighted the rickety jeeps at midnight. The man to whom they had bequeathed their money pointed the way forward and quickly vanished.
They walked through the desert, wary and weary, under the cloud cover. Abuela was the first to die. Thirst. His wife had developed a septic wound and passed away next. His darling Nina, his hija, succumbed soon after to the cold.
They found him hugging his daughter’s body a mile from the border.
Miguel looks at the Red, White, and Blue flying proudly as he sips the cola provided by an ICE agent.
He doesn’t see any promises.