the bedroom in the dark,
watching the cemetery wall
through the half-opened
window as the bed on which
she sat shook with José
Arcadios snoring. She had
waited all week with the same
hidden persistence with
which during different times
she had waited for Pietro
Crespis letters. They wont
shoot him here, José Arcadio,
told her. Theyll shoot him at
midnight in the barracks so
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