When Álvaro awoke in the morning his feet ached to find the other half. A few weeks ago, he’d perused a Havana flea market for roller skates, but only found one. ‘When will I find the other half?’ He thought and walked in flip-flops to his school day. A cracked sidewalk tore his right sandal, and he hopped on the one skate. That’s when it happened. The cobble stones turned the color of rust and the street klaxons transformed into trumpets, a brass symphony. He wobbled then balanced with skill, a sense of completeness invaded his veins. He glided by
neighborhoods, parks, bodegas and shops. He flew right past his school, through alleyways and into Havana’s Central Train Station. On a corner, there it was leaning on a wall waiting for him… the skate. But he didn’t wear it. A boy, about 13, like him, waited barefoot on the train platform. Álvaro gifted him
the other half.

“Take it.” Álvaro said.
“Fly.”
“Find me.”