(Draft) Sol y Sombra

A Single Red Rose

The aroma of guava pastelitos, warm and sweet, hung heavy in the air of Pan Dulce Valentino. Sunlight streamed through the vibrant papel picado decorations, casting playful shadows on the colorful counters. Valentino, a whirlwind of infectious cheer, bustled around, arranging a fresh batch of golden conchas. Their smile, as bright as the sunrise over their grandmother's garden, could melt the frostiest of hearts.

"Abuela!" Valentino called out, his voice laced with excitement, 

"have you seen the news? Señor Rodriguez kicked the bucket! Can you believe it? The man who practically invented the scowl, gone just like that!"

Abuela Elena, perched on a stool by the window, her weathered hands moving with practiced ease as she kneaded dough, paused. A flicker of concern crossed her face, momentarily extinguishing the warm glint in her eyes.

"Don Ricardo?" she finally spoke, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief.

"Muerto," Valentino confirmed with a dramatic flourish, 

dead as a day-old pan dulce! Apparently, they found him at his mansion this morning. Crazy, right?"

Abuela Elena slammed the dough down on the counter with a force that startled Valentino. A low growl escaped her lips, a sound as foreign to Valentino as a cloud in a clear blue sky.

"Just like that?" Her voice was a low rumble. 

"A man known for his...disagreements...with half the town, simply vanishes? This doesn't sit well, mijo. Not at all."

Valentino, oblivious to the storm brewing in his grandmother's eyes, tilted his head, a confused crease forming on his brow. "But Abuela, everyone says Señor Rodriguez was harmless! Just a grumpy old man, set in his ways. Like a stubborn cactus, you know?"

Abuela Elena stared at him, her gaze as sharp as a freshly sharpened cuchillo.

"Some creatures, mijo, with the prickliest exteriors, can hide the deadliest thorns. This muerte...it feels like a dark cloud settling over our little town. Be careful, Valentino. Curiosity, like a stray cat, can lead you down alleys you don't want to explore."

A shadow, brief and unexpected, flickered across Valentino's face. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his ever-present grin. 

"Aw, Abuela, don't worry your beautiful head about a thing! They will figure it out, they always do. Besides, everyone knows the only mysteries I'm interested in solving involve the perfect balance of cinnamon and sugar in my latest batch of churros!"

Valentino's grin, though bright, couldn't quite dispel the knot of unease tightening in Abuela Elena's gut. She knew her grandson too well. The fleeting shadow that crossed his face, a flicker of something darker beneath his usual sunshine, spoke of a curiosity that might soon overpower his optimism.

"Mi cielo," she began, her voice softening, the dough forgotten on the counter. "Sometimes, the sweetest treats can have the bitterest aftertaste. This death, it feels...unnatural. Don Ricardo may not have been a saint, but no one deserves to..." Her voice trailed off, a tremor running through her hands.

Valentino, ever the pragmatist, reached across the counter and squeezed her hand. "Abuela, you're letting your imagination run wild. Señor Rodriguez was old, probably just his time. Besides," he winked, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, "you wouldn't want me to get spooked, would you? Who would create our masterpiece tres leches cake for the town fiesta then?"

Abuela Elena forced a smile, her heart heavy. Valentino's lightheartedness was a double-edged sword. It brought joy to everyone around him, but it also made him blind to the shadows lurking at the edges. She knew then that she couldn't rely on his sunshine to protect him from the darkness that might be approaching.