There was no way Gloria could ever put the death of her parents behind her. Instead, their deaths became the necessary air, the oxygen giving life to the growing fire within. The loss of her father, while not tolerable, was manageable because of her mother's continued dependence. Once they were both gone, the recurring thoughts of the circumstances which brought about their demise drove her passion and at the same time gave her a prolonged sense of their presence beyond their worldly existence. She was not exactly certain of her path, her goals or the methods of obtaining them. All she knew is that something had to change and she was going to be the catalyst.
It wasn't until after hiring a professional cleaner to remove all residual evidence of her mother's passing and a glass repairman to replace the broken window of the shop that she realized, "This is my store now." It would remain vacant she decided, since she never had the desire to be there in the first place and no longer had her mother as a reason to keep it operational. She immediately put the store up for sale, all items and inventory included. It was a successful business, relatively speaking, and it wouldn't be long before someone would solicit its purchase. [A small "For Sale" sign hangs in the front window with a chain and lock across the front doors, securing the business.]
Gloria entered a state of deep depression and melancholy for some time. Her daily routine consisted of waking up extremely late in the day and not sleeping until very late at night or early morning. Many times she would be on her way to sleep as the sun was rising. She thought that when the rest of the world was quiet and motionless she would somehow stumble upon an answer to her own confused questions. Once she awoke, her day began by eating a poorly prepared lunch, usually just eggs and tortillas, nothing that required the use of too many kitchen implements as she was avoiding exerting any kind of effort. Oftentimes she would eat straight out of the pan or on paper plates to avoid the extra cleaning. After her half-hearted attempt at nutrition, she would proceed to walk the streets, taking care of any necessary errands, avoiding all unnecessary social interactions. She would sometimes deviate from her customary pace in order to spend time at the corner Internet cafe where she would search the online news ads about other people killed as her parents were.
This behavior went on for some time and eventually, but suddenly, Gloria gained the motivation to change her aimless practices. She awoke, as if from a drug-induced state, questioning why she had gone away in the first place. Afraid that she would slip again into this foggy existence she took action upon the first thought she had. As most people who have no other good idea for how to positively cause change, Gloria's first thought was to purchase a gun. It made perfect sense; it was a gun that took her parents from her and she wanted to wield the same power. The ability to take a life with such ease, accidentally in fact, was quite appealing to her. She had no clear idea of who she would point the gun at, but if she needed to, she wanted to have one in her hand. So Gloria drove to the local gun store.
Almost invisible from the outside, with no advertisements and no signage, the inside was simple, small, yet heavily armored. There were enough firearms in that little shop to start a small war. "Perhaps this is where the gunman purchased his gun that killed my father," she thought to herself. Once inside, there were no extravagances; no neon orange vests or other relevant hunting apparel. A stern faced man, in his mid 40s stood behind a short counter, protected with a large pane of high density, polycarbonate bullet-resistant glass.
"I want to buy a gun," Gloria exclaimed. "Are you looking for a rifle or a handgun?" questioned the clerk at the gun sale counter. She was not sure, the rifle seemed bigger and she thought the size would translate into power. But how would she carry it around? It wasn't very inconspicuous and seemed much harder to handle. That settled it. "A handgun," she replied, "But do you have anything bigger, these look very small." [The gun clerk pulling back the barrel of a handgun in a mock loading action. Behind him are various shotguns and rifles lining the wall.] "This one is nice. Not too big. You're not going to find anything oversize here, this one is just right for you," he said. The clerk explained that due to a long history of gun violence in Mexico, dating back to the time of Benito Juarez, many laws had been put into place to restrict the sale of firearms above the .22 caliber unless a valid reason for more power could be provided. "Even President Juárez had to purchase guns from the United States," he said jokingly in a reference to the 19th Century revolution. What a funny thought, the great president after which her town was named, probably the greatest in México's history, was himself caught in a gun battle nearly 150 years ago.
Gloria thought about coming up with some lame reason of why she needed a more powerful gun, but nothing came to mind immediately and if she hesitated any longer, the story wouldn't have been believable. Plus, she didn't understand the technicalities of the weapons, their uses or what restrictions a low caliber firearm would have. She knew that she needed something to make up for her lack of formal training and experience with guns. All she could do was repeat herself in hope that the man would fulfill her request simply out of irritation. "I need something bigger," she told the gun clerk. "Look, I'm sorry, but as I said before, this is all we have. What do you need something bigger for?" asked the clerk. Gloria responded simply, "I don't know."
She realized her efforts were useless, she wasn't going to get the gun she wanted, assuming she knew what she wanted, and wasn't even sure what she would do with it once she had it. After all, who was she going to shoot at? The next gun wielding hoodlum that drove through her neighborhood? Was she going to track down and murder her mother's killer in cold blood? No, the police had already taken care of that. It was out of an act of desperation, of rash decision making and poor judgment the thought of buying a gun had even crossed her mind. Gloria was back where she started: lost and completely without ideas.
It only took a couple days before the first call regarding the sale of the gift store was received. The following day Gloria made an appointment with the patron to review the property and discuss the details of the sale. She arrived on site early to unlock the store and ensure everything was presentable. This was the first time she had been back into the little shop since the incident and she easily envisioned her mother sitting in her usual seat by the window, taking on the daily activities outside. In an instant her mind shifted to an image of her mother's cold body lying dead on the floor. After a moment, her attention was arrested by a passing vehicle outside and abruptly turned her attention to the matter at hand. Upon dramatizing the sale that was to unfold, she was suddenly posed with a conflict. Should she inform the prospective buyer of what occurred or simply avoid the subject altogether? She obviously didn't wish to discuss the details of the incident, but what if subject came up and he was expecting to get some kind of a discount because of it? "Should I take what I can get?" she thought to herself. She decided that she would stay firm with her price and if the subject did arise, she would respond honestly. If she lost the sale, there would always be another, she was convinced.
As scheduled, the man arrived in the late afternoon, just enough time to see the shop during sunlight. He was not overly professional, but did have a certain businessman appearance. He wore a median priced suit and a matching hat to shade his bald head from the sun. Gloria came out of the shop to greet him and answer any questions he may have about the neighborhood or the outside of the building. He made a minor inquiry into the age of the building and how long she had owned it. Gloria responded promptly with little enthusiasm. "This used to be my father's shop," she responded. After further discussion about the window dressings and neighboring shops she prompted the man to enter the store, "Shall we proceed inside?" The man simply nodded and they moved towards the storefront entrance. Just as Gloria placed her hand on the door handle, the man gently grabbed her arm and said, "I'm sorry for what happened here. I can go in by myself if you prefer to stay outside." Gloria was stunned, not so much by the fact that he knew what happened, as news spreads quickly in such a tight-knit community. It was the honesty of the whole moment. She had prepared herself to make the first move at any sign of the buyer's knowledge of the murder assuming, like many other businessmen, that he would try and take advantage of her predicament. Although she had been raised to be cautious in all business dealings, to never let a friendly smile and warm gestures get in the way of cold, professional business, she was taken off guard and had not prepared for such a heartfelt extension. It was difficult for her be in that place, but she wanted to feel strong and took pride in her ability to conduct business professionally. "It's alright," she lied. The two entered the store quietly with little notice from pedestrians and passers by. Only one of them would exit alive. [The man has just begun lifting the hat from his head as both enter the store. Only their backs are visible.]
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