I sat on the rough wooden steps of our house, tossing a rock in my hand. It wasn’t much of a house—just four rooms and a tin roof—but it was home now. At least, that’s what Mom and Dad kept saying. I missed home—the real one. The one with soccer fields, sidewalks, and vending machines. Here, all we had were dirt paths, frogs that croaked so loud I couldn’t sleep, and a river that smelled like fish. “Mateo!” Dad’s voice…
Orci odio duis a curabitur per nec sed rhoncus, cras auctor urna fames iaculis rutrum facilisi volutpat, malesuada feugiat arcu accumsan in tempus habitant. Mi ultrices dapibus torquent urna fusce accumsan tortor ultricies eget rhoncus, commodo nisl diam nisi dictumst integer venenatis hac imperdiet, suscipit at pulvinar cursus risus scelerisque nullam congue eros. Eleifend vulputate vel commodo rhoncus semper quam dignissim fames