“La Luna!,” exclaimed Manuel as he pointed to the sky, his other hand clutching a heavy trash bag. I looked upwards, brushing the sweat off my brow as I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the night sky. Scattered throughout that swath of dark blue were a trail of stars, glistening ever so bright. A swift breeze ushered its way through the alley, the gutter trail reflecting the moon.
“Si señor,” I said as I managed a cigarette between my lips, Manuel came over and lit it with his lighter then proceeded to light his own. We stood there quietly, a pair of beings looking up staring at that moon, its color yellow then pale. It seemed to goad me, then befriend me.
I exhaled a large plumage of smoke and studied the constellation.
I recognized that belt, those three bright stars, the three kings, the three sisters: Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka.
Orion’s Belt.
I stared at that sky, maybe a bit too hard.
I wondered how many men, how many women have stared at Orion.
What lives did these people lead, at what moment compelled them to take pause to finally consider Orion’s majesty.
Manuel was a worker.
I was a worker.
We were no different.
We were the same.
“La Luna!”
“Si, Manuel, Si…”
