I Kissed My Wife’s Cold Forehead in the Coffin—Then I Opened Her Hand and Found a Navy Blue Button from My Brother Rodrigo’s Jacket

toward it.

“There, son. Be strong.”

The lilies slipped from my hand and fell across the floor.

I walked to the coffin as if the room had gone silent around me. Camila lay inside, pale and beautiful, her hair arranged neatly on a white pillow. She looked almost asleep.

But something was wrong.

Camila hated the way people folded the dead like saints.

“When continue reading …