liberadas
{ ✞ } If there's one thing Southerners love, it's a show. He's realized that over the several years he's been doing this. Entertain them through whatever means and they'll eat it up. It's more of an American trait than a Southern one, if he's going to be fair about it. Regardless, there's little he can complain about. Put on a good show ---- a bit of vaudevillian flair here, a twist of drama there ---- and they're set for a good while The show, however, isn't going off as planned. Dark clouds roll in through the sky around whatever small town they've made their camp for the next few weeks. Truth be told, he can't remember the town's name, but that'll come later. He'll manage to talk his way around all that later. What matters now is getting the show on the road, to repeat an old cliche.
He's standing in what could really only be a ghost of a grassland, dried and dying weeds making their last stand in the pockmarked earth. There's a dry heat and it's only time before the rain falls and sends it on its way. The tent stands, striped tarp heavy with humidity. Carrillo looks around, taking in the scene before twisting the gold band around his finger with his thumb. A nice touch to an absolutely formal union. The rain clouds move in closer and closer, sun hiding behind them.
He turns to his side and says, ❝ -—-Va a llover. ¿Hay que tomar la carpa abajo? ❞