La Carta Del Adios "los Sepultureros" 〈Free〉

"To the ones who will hold the shovel when I cannot hold my breath:

"Twenty years," Eladio murmured. "No one has ever thanked the dirt-movers." LA CARTA DEL ADIOS "Los Sepultureros"

As Mateo's spade struck a patch of soft dirt near the edge of the fresh grave, he saw it: a small, cream-colored envelope, sealed with red wax. It hadn't been there a moment ago. It seemed to have fallen from the pocket of the deceased's coat just as they began the burial. "To the ones who will hold the shovel

Mateo looked up at the old oak tree. The moon was indeed rising, silver and cold. Eladio, who had been listening in silence, let out a long, shaky breath. He took the letter from Mateo, his rough, calloused fingers tracing the ink. It seemed to have fallen from the pocket

"Look at this," Mateo whispered, wiping the dust from the paper. On the front, in elegant, trembling script, were the words: .

"One more shovel, Mateo," Eladio grunted, his voice as dry as the earth they moved. "The ground is stubborn today. It doesn't want to let another one in."