Lioto's eyes are closed,
His breath shudders,
Hands clenched on the arms
Of his old wooden chair.
He doesn't wake
When I shake his
Aged, bent shoulder.
I sit opposite
Wait patiently
The sky is grey,
The leaves on the trees are grey,
The air is grey,
The city smells grey.
But Lioto,
In his old wooden chair,
Smells like citrus and sun
Like the beach did
The one time I was there.
YOU ARE READING
The Things I Learned About Lioto Reyez
General FictionCallie Juan doesn't know much about Lioto. But she's learning more every day as he tells her a secret story about the city where he was born. But as Lioto reveals more about his story, Callie begins to wonder: if the story is true, what happened to...
