Not too long ago, in a small central American village, there lived a man who would some day become a hero of the people, fighting injustice throughout the land, but, we're not there yet. This is merely the beginning of this tale. The day was hot the hottest we've seen in a while, sweat rolling down your back as you peer off into the distance, everything sun-baked and arid. This was to be a day of awakening for a seemingly ordinary man, not yet aware of the great impact he would have on his home in the coming days.
The chatter of commerce along the dusty streets, people selling various produce and handmade goods, one man was posted against a wall playing expertly on an old six string for all to hear, life was happening in this small corner of the world, and things were no different for our hero. Disparos en la Playa, A small cantina run by his father, was buzzing with the lunch time roar of diners and some tourists, just waiting to sample the fine homemade cuisine, the smell of freshly cut onion, cilantro and chiles wafted in the air around.
"Esteban, will you give me a hand with this?" his father cried from the kitchen, they had bought a new stove, the old one died out a few months back. It was a local hot spot, but times were tough, and they were in fear of losing the place, a secret which they had kept from Esteban for about 4 months now. (to be continued)
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