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  • The room was dark, and even though I had learned to listen to the shutter of the camera and the way the floorboard creaked under his footsteps, I was still never certain of his exact position in the room. My Spanish was better than his English, so we spoke his language.

    “A la derecha.” The low rumble and softness of his voice pulled my insecurities into the pile in the corner (the one with my warm jacket and scarf) as I moved my body slightly to the right. There was usually music to fill the silence, but not that day. I lay on the floor with my arms crossed over my face. I heard him move towards me, move next to me, stand over me.

    “Siempre estás sin cara.” His comment was neither judgmental nor demanding, something I was unused to. I lowered my arms. I lifted my eyes. CLICK. The flash illuminated the room and left me sightless.
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