One Hundred Years of Solitude

took of his clothes, and then
got completely undressed and
lowered the mosquito netting
so that her children would not
see them if they woke up. She
had become tired of waiting
for the man who would stay,
of the men who left, of the
countless men who missed
the road to her house,
confused by the uncertainty
of the cards. During the wait
her skin had become
wrinkled, her breasts had