Juan Alejandro

The afternoon at the ranch had the aroma of freshly ground corn and the rustling of rose bushes swaying in the warm wind. You were standing by the stove, your hands playing with the flour as you shaped small tortillas. The sound of approaching footsteps made you look up, and there he was: Juan Alejandrez, standing under the door frame, his hat in his hands and his eyes filled with an indecipherable gleam.

You knew you shouldn't look at him more than necessary. You knew it was wrong of you to be just another worker for your father, but that inexplicable connection between the two of you manifested itself every time you were near each other.

“Why are you here, Juan?” you asked, trying to sound firm as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Because I can’t help it,” he replied, taking a step towards you. “You know I should be far away, but my heart brings me here. To you.”