Read The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert for Free Online

battle as Orchid and Spinal in Killer Instinct . We missed two or three times before the coins finally plunged their histories into the apple juice and we sipped and dripped with stickiness on the sides of our mouths.
    I woke up before any of the adults, surrounded by lavender walls. The air was thick with musk and fluctuations of alcoholic puffs of breath. The screen door squeaked open and shut. Clicks echoed as it rested back into its frame. I walked out of the bathroom and saw you. I saw you, so I tried to run to Ruby. I wanted to lie next to her and smell the baby shampoo in our hair strands. I wanted to wake her up and tell her about the dream I had: It was raining. We went digging for gems. She wore my turquoise sweater with the black squiggles on it and I wasn’t even mad. You caught me, gripped my hair and those harsh hands turned my face toward yours. The power struggle that made me stop praying. You were an authority figure I often thought about suffocating. My back hit the bathroom tile. I thought about all the people who find you charming. I closed my eyes. A loud POP went off and I posed as though I was in the womb again. I felt a layer of warmth on me. As I opened my eyes, your body collapsed. Red fluid molecules flooded the air. I screamed and I screamed and then there was just darkness.
    Sylvia stepped into the cooling evening. Her pockets jingled with her step by step by step. Graffiti embraced the payphone booth. Sylvia aligned her back against the phone booth’s panel. The tone stopped and Lupe told her that Estelita was asleep. She better get home soon or she would raise Estelita to be a nun. “Ay, Mamá, espero al bus.”
    Sylvia trembled and hung up on Lupe. The barrel of a shotgun rested on her cheek. A gringo with eyes como el cielo and hair el mismo color like the heroes in telenovelas was holding the weapon.
    “Do you understand English?”
    He spoke slowly.
    Sylvia thought of the white puta she beat the shit out of for telling her that she sounded ugly when she spoke Spanish.
    “Yes, a little.”
    Tobacco particles escaped from his spit. He told her not to scream and pushed her toward a white mustang. Sylvia thought of sharks. Mustangs were sharks of the freeway. Gringos were loan sharks. Gringos were the reiteration of the times she’d been called a wetback. Gringos grinned as though they owned the fucking universe.
    She settled into the leather seat.
    Lupe was going to be pissed.
    Estelita would never forgive her.
    She should have kept track of Alfonso.
    Child support would have helped Estelita.
    “Ey, how old are you?”
    His fingers invaded her crunchy curls. Sylvia could barely think and whispered a number.
    “Ey, that’s cool. You’re my sixteen year old girlfriend now, okay?”
    Sylvia refused to cry. Era dura because she had to be. It had come to Sylvia’s attention that women in Juárez meant nada, so what, if another Chicana went missing?
    Blue and red lights radiated through the windows. The shark car stopped. A police officer tapped at the window. This was one of the only times Sylvia felt relief in seeing a cop.
    The blood is gone. My body heat contains itself underneath a blanket decorated with the sun, la luna and the stars. My lungs expand with the crisp air flowing into me as I emerge from beneath the blanket. Candlelight illuminates the small woman who comes into the room to feel my forehead and caress my hair with warm wet cloth. The smell of spices from the kitchen and the scent of her rose oil bring me comfort.
    “No se que pasó mija, pero con el favor de Dios, tiene su salud.”
    I call her my new mother. Her name is Rosalina. We settle into a desolate town. Clusters of lonely clouds stick themselves on top of the sky. Stars swim and drown in between the nothingness en la noche. The residents are righteous and outrageous in their insights. Floral patterns settle over their chests, over their hearts and the softness of their human bodies. In Palomar, we tell each