I run back home after the school. I can hear the women from outside; my heart is racing fast. I’m greeted by my mom, “go say hi to everyone, and I don’t want you to hang around the table.” She looks beautiful; there’s a unique way boys look at their mother that is just pure. I agree with a smile, and run to the laughing, cheering, and a very smoky game room filled with my mom’s closest friends. I give a kiss to each one of the beautiful ladies. Red lips mark my cheeks. There’s just no space left on my face when I greet my grandma. She calls me son, and she doesn’t wear red lipstick. Grandma is the most beautiful lady in the room; a disease took her melatonin away, so she is very white, hair is short and curly, she dresses in a floral dress, and her admirable elegance. From the movement of her body to the tone of her voice and laugh, it’s all very delicate, very slow but effective. She keeps a handkerchief (small, white, laced) with her all the time; cleaning the edge of her eyes, it looks like she is always crying. I believe it’s just the way she plays the game of being a woman. With one of her movements, she wets the handkerchief with a little bit of saliva, cleaning my face of the red lipstick marks. Then, she gives me a long kiss on the cheek. I check if my mom is around and run under the table. I like to hear those women talking and playing. I like to be around them; I laugh with them, I can spend my life just watching that upside down game. The woman with red marks on the tip of her finger and the tip of her cigarettes is my favorite. She is so loud and competitive. Her feet don’t stop moving from all the anxiousness and the caffeine. She loses the game, uttering a swearing which makes me laugh so hard my grandma notices my presence. I see my mom’s arms reaching my t-shirt collar. She pulls me from the room, and I’m still laughing. She looks at me with a smile on her face, takes me to the kitchen with her, and serves me the delicious food she prepared. I look at her.


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