Far from Ramiro

Chico Mattoso

Morning invaded the room. Ramiro tried to protect himself with the sheets, but when he looked, it was still there, as if to say: I didn’t ask to be born. Neither did I, he murmured, and covered his head with the pillow. He managed to sleep a bit more, but then the light came again, sharp, penetrat…

Rat Fever
Before the Fall