Last night By: donna E-mail: bairakdar4@hotmail.com In the still of the night Santiago’s crying cut sharply like a knife. His crying was relentless, as though it would never end but then, a child of three knows no other way to express his horror. Abraham Naser walked down the narrow street made of hardened earth and nothing more. His dress was pure class, white blazer and pants with matching wide brimmed hat. Lost in thought he rolled his cigar between his lips, then, as if in a motion as natural to him as his tendency to smile at beautiful women, he adjusted his gun stuffed tightly in the back of his waist bond. It was then when Abraham ran into the women he knew would change his life; the women who woul