The Moths and Other Stories

by Helena María Viramontes

  Aura finally dozed, her head falling forward until the loud door slam startled her into wakefulness and she groped around for the gun. She could not keep her body from trembling as she stood up from her chair to listen to the sounds coming from outside. She heard running footsteps, panting, and she felt the sweat dripping between her breasts. Someone was on her porch and she prayed to be left alone. She held the gun high with both hands, squeezing, tightly squeezing it as she aimed at the door.