She was left breathless, heavy, as if the world she had braved and grown to accept, deteriorated into a fine porous dust that slipped violently through her fingers. The reality was almost surreal at this moment, speechless yet screaming, as if all people around her moved methodically slow, almost caught in a replaying still that would continue timelessly until it was stopped on demand. Stopped, by a remote that she, unfortunately, did not have, nor would she ever control. Her mouth was parched, eyes tepidly were swollen, as her arms and fingers rang with a familiar weakness. Her shame and worthlessness began to choke her, as she questioned the triviality of her existence. She glanced around being sure to not be seen, and quickly repositioned her hijab, checking twice to be sure her neck and hair were covered.

Adelína Moráles ruffled her fingers gently through her hair, and let out a sigh as she lay amid the wet soil of her family’s fields. The stalks of the maize plants that she had been tasked to harvest indefinitely shaded her body from the subordinating glare of the sun. The apertures up above in the leaves of the plants allowed for dapples of sifted light to perforate themselves onto her clothes. She glanced down toward her abdomen and noticed a Corn Flea Beetle resting upon her cattleya-tinged shirt. Gracefully, she hoisted the creature onto her fingers as she lifted her own self to a seated position. She examined the gold surface of its shell as it aimlessly crawled along her palm and up her forearm. She was astonished at how such a vibrant insect could cause devastation.