She played with his fingers. Through his open shirt, his gold cross dangled on his chest, reminding her she had once shared his faith, when they were youngsters, before her belief had been destroyed in Europe. It seemed to her everyone she had met abroad had been either agnostic or atheist. Viewing Mexico from across the sea, the country's peasant credulity had gradually become absurd. Within a few years, she had ridiculed its faith.
"Raul, I'll miss you."
"You have your friends."
"No friends are like you."
"Ride to Petaca with me, Chula."
"I can't.... I must see the families of the dead. There are many things to look after. I wonder what happened at Petaca?"
"We're buried in duties," he said too loudly.
"Is your shoulder better than yesterday?"
"Yes.... Yes."
The worker banged at the damaged spring.