Estrella

 “The stars always know,” Abuelita used to mumble to Camila in silent gaps between garlic being pressed with oregano.

When she lost her, Cami wheezed out a knot. That’s what it felt like--a knot of air, whistling out of her. Abuelita’s kettle. Sunday mornings.

After the funeral, Cami hunched her back, finally alone.

The blue-light of her phone broke her trance. It was a notification from her newest astrology app:

“Sit up straight.”