Juan Alejandro

The afternoon at the ranch carried the scent of freshly ground corn and the whisper of rosebushes swayed by the warm wind. You were by the kitchen, 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 beneath the doorframe, his hat held between his hands and his eyes filled with an indecipherable glint.

You knew you shouldn't look at him more than necessary. You knew it was wrong, given that he was just another one of your father's workers, but that inexplicable connection between you both manifested every time you were near.

"Why do you come here, Juan?" you asked, trying to sound firm while the heat rose to your cheeks.

"Because I can't help it," he replied, taking a step toward you. "You know I should stay away, but my heart brings me here. To you."