Juan laughed and cried at the same time. “You be good. I love you and miss you, baby.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

“Juan?” Claudia again. Juan could tell she had wept while he spoke to their daughter.

“Yes.”

“I have to go. I need to wash her and get her to bed. And I have work in the morning.”

“Okay.” He wanted to say more but couldn’t.

“I love you. We’ll be thinking about you.”

“I…I love you too.” Before he could say anything else, she was gone. He kept the phone to his ear as the dial tone came on. Wet tear stains polka-dotted the concrete between his shoes, and he watched as more pitter pattered there.

A tap on the shoulder.

Juan ignored it and ran his forearm over his eyes. His mustache was slick with snot. A weak hand hung the phone back on the cradle, and he took a long, deep breath.

Another tap. “Say, ese. You got some change?”

Juan turned to find the skinny, pipe-sucking black man there. His eyes had cataracts and his front teeth were missing. Two yellow teeth hung past his top lip and made him look like a vampire.

Juan just shook his head. He started to walk away.

“Come on, holmes. Anything. I’ll suck your dick.”

Juan saw red. He stepped up to the man and shoved him dead in the chest. The man stumbled on his twig legs, crashed into the stone wall of the store, cracking his head against it. The man crumbled into a heap and covered himself.

“Motherfucker.” Juan stomped and kicked. The man turned into his mother-in-law, then Mr. Chan, then Manuel, then the coyote. He became the fat fucks from the restaurant.

“Stop. Please…leave me alone.” The man pissed on himself and sat in a spreading pool. A lamp shone sickly, jaundiced light down on him, junebugs and moths swirling around him and clicking when they hit the wall. His body shook and he gasped, his hands held out in surrender. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

Juan backed away. He blinked rapidly, his mustache twitching out of control.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He jogged away, back toward the apartment, and hoped Manuel was finished. Whether his cousin was done or not, Juan decided he needed to start cooking their dinner. Preparing the food would get his mind off things, would calm him down. His stomach begged him for sustenance.

The Mexican girl was there, waiting for him. He shook his head frantically as he passed her, didn’t want to hear another word ooze from her disease-ridden mouth.

“Well fuck you then!” she shouted.

Juan went straight for the apartment door. More moaning from inside, a wet sound squishing in the air.

I don’t care. I’ll just turn my back to them.

He threw the door open. His jaw felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as he stared into the efficiency.

“…Manuel…w-what…”

Manuel ignored him as he bit into the woman’s body again. Her stomach was torn to shreds, purple and pink hanging out like party favors. White ribs shone from the mess of red. Manuel tore a hunk of flesh away from her chest and swallowed it whole.