One Hundred Years of Solitude

left, paler and bonier, and he
showed the first symptoms of
resistance to nostalgia. Good
Lord, Úrsula said to herself.
Now he looks like a man
capable of anything. He was.
The Aztec shawl that he
brought Amaranta, the
remembrances he spoke of at
lunch, the funny stories her
told were simple leftovers
from his humor of a different
time. As soon as the order to
bury the dead in a common