LA MATADORA

Sam sat looking out the window of a bullet train traveling at about ninety miles per hour, staring at her passport picture, wondering if she wanted to change the color or length of her long black hair for her next location or if she just wanted to stay Sam for this stay. Sometimes it has seemed easier to become someone else for a stay so that you can leave it all behind and block it out of memory. Sam had fallen asleep, but suddenly, she was startled awake by the train whistle and realized she had been dreaming of her childhood in Mexico.