we'd gotten all the pets in their "cozy" clothing and a bunch of veterinarians met us where we could get low enough to transport the precious cargo.
It would be a short ground-drop in and maybe getting out.
The dangling clothing rope dragged across the garbage dump.
"Has anyone seen my writer?"
Only two other people spoke English where we'd dropped.
Someone poked a long stick into a heap of foul-smelling rubbish. The baking sun hit it like it hits tar or asphalt birthing the air into a shimmering.
"Carolina de Jesus. Do you know where to find her?"
"Sì, sì pero un problemo."
"Que?"
The stick caught a black sock and hurled it as the person pointed with the stick to a broadly swinging cargo plane with the clothing rope on fire.
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