No Substance #153: Fresh Dirt from the Grave by Giovanna Rivero

We were just kids when Aunt Anita took us to Canada. Our parents had died in that horrible accident on Death Road, in the Bolivian Yungas, and the house where we’d been happiest was still mortgaged. There was no inheritance, and no safeguards or timely prophecies. The only blood uncle we had left in Santa Cruz, Papá’s brother, said that children were al…