Ruben Reyes Jr.

“The cruel thing about grief is that it doesn’t care where you are or how you’re feeling. Out of nowhere, a random memory descends, even if your mind has been running a hundred miles an hour over the hundred things on your to-do list. The memory could be of the most mundane, ordinary day, and still, it’ll send an ancient sadness through you. The sort of sadness you imagine humans have felt since creation, but that you never imagined you could experience so deep inside.”
― Ruben Reyes Jr., There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven: A Collection of Short Stories of Fantasy, Migration, and Central American Identity

“A NATION IS A FICTION, AND LIKE ANY NARRATIVE, IT MUST HAVE A BEGINNING AND AN END. ITS SEAMS ARE IMAGINARY, INVISIBLE LINES OF STITCHES THAT HOLD IT TOGETHER, US VERSUS THEM, A COUNTRY AGAINST ITS ENEMIES. A BROTHER PICKS UP A GUN AGAINST HIS BROTHER, AND THE SEAM SPLITS. THE FICTION ENDS. A COUNTRY IS A FICTION THAT ENDS IN BLOODSHED, RUBBLE, A MOUND OF DIRT MARKED ONLY WITH FLOWERS. OTHER MEN WANT TO WRITE A DIFFERENT STORY, BUILD ANOTHER LIE. A KINDER ONE, LESS BLOODY BUT STILL STURDY AROUND THE EDGES. A COUNTRY NEEDS A BORDER TO PROVE IT IS REAL. NETO PRESSES ITS EDGES BETWEEN HIS FINGERS, SEEING WHAT WILL GIVE. WILL HE SEE HOW FLIMSY IT IS, HOW CONVENIENT A STORY HE’S COME TO BELIEVE? HERE IS WHAT HIS NATION SOUNDS LIKE: A GIRL IS TERRIFIED, BUT SHE KEEPS LIVING. HER STORY DOES NOT END AT THE BARREL OF A GUN, AND THOUGH HER COUNTRY IS A LIE, SHE BELIEVES IT BECAUSE IT ALLOWED HER TO BREATHE LONG ENOUGH FOR HER MOTHER TO STORM IN. TO HOLD HER, TO ASSURE HER THAT NOTHING IS TORN, THAT LIFE WILL CONTINUE IF WE CLOSE OUR EYES AND PRETEND WE DO NOT SEE THE GASH DOWN ITS CENTER.”
― Ruben Reyes Jr., Archive of Unknown Universes