Allergies John encountered Carlos one afternoon. He and some of the other hands were smoking cigars. “Big news, jefe, my son was born this morning!” “That’s great, Carlos. What’s the boy’s name?” “Pablo.” Carlos reached inside the cigar box he had and handed a cigar to smoke. John took it, unwrapped it, used a knife Carlos had to cut the head, and held a lit wooden match to the tuck. He puffed on the cigar lightly as he told the hands what the day’s activities would be. He came inside for lunch smelling slightly of cigar smoke. Martha set down a sandwich and bowl of soup for him. Marvin crawled about the kitchen while he ate. Crawling to his feet, he looked up at his surrogate father. He sniffed John’s pant leg slightly, sensing the odor of cigar. Scrunching his face in disgust, he coughed, and then crawled into the other room in search of more interesting things. John finished his sandwich then reconvened with his hands in the fields. As he worked, the sun ...
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