By Roy Gomez
Yeah … I’d run out of words. I’d driven all night, hoping to change Cecilia’s mind – when suddenly, out of nowhere, the gravel road came to a dead end. We parked on a high cliff. Way out in the gulf this one light blinked on the black sea. Cecilia never spoke. It was all on me. Clutching the steering wheel, refusing to accept it, I hated thinking we were done. Sure, sure, I guess I could’ve called him Cecil. It’s what he’d always wanted. It’s just so strange, you know. Cecil. Cecilia. I don’t even know this Cecil guy.