moses isley d6 cb

moses --

It's been cold at my abuela's house ever since the air conditioner broke. I've been in a hand me down sweater, something that had been in my mother's closet before she died. Though, I gotta say, it fits pretty nice! Mullet of curly hair pressed down by the collar and it'd only ever pop out by the time I'd bend over my abuela in her bed, changing the rags over her forehead. Since the bombings, my aubela and I both lost our jobs - I just got let go, they couldn't afford to keep me longer. 

My aubela's though, she lost it because of the whole accident. She used to work in the hospitals, told me how she had been working there longer than I had been alive. 

"Nene," she'd say, carassing my cheek with her eyes, arms that don't move anymore. "Vas a buscar a Teddy Ursa," and I try to ignore it. The way my grandmother talks, I've never grieved the loss of Basil. She was family that I never met, practically just another name, and Teddy has helped as he can. Nearly closer to us than Basil had been. I only grieve for the fact that she would have handled this better than me.

"Y vas a darle el infierno," she says, old dialect for an old woman.

"Sure thing, wela."