: Lunch Across the Bridge :

an excerpt by Peter LaSalle

They wouldn't know about it until the next day.

Later they would read about it in the paper, eventually hear it on TV. The couple would learn that what happened that day at the restaurant called Arandas was all part of what Nuevo Laredo across the border was at the moment. But, as said, they didn't know that then, when it happened there at Arandas.

It was a fine restaurant just two blocks off the city's main street, a modernistic villa-style setup–pale lavender stucco and tinted glass, walled in for its own little enclave with a courtyard offering gardens of fleshy hibiscus and the stars of oleander, a hissing fountain–and they had simply walked over the international bridge from their hotel in Laredo to have a late lunch.