However, my mother looked at them with sheer disgust and said, "Take them away, take them away! My father doesn't need your offerings. Mateo already burned his. Get them out of here!"
With a single kick, she scattered the paper flower, that I personally folded, across the dirt.
The mountains were eerily quiet. I wiped the blood from my arm with the corner of my sleeve and crouched down, then picked up the paper flowers one by one from the muddy ground.
At least I made it down the mountain before sunset, since today is the Day of the Death Festival and our family had a tradition to gather at the old house for dinner.
As soon as I stepped into the courtyard, my mother poked her head out and started yelling, "You little brat! What took you so long? The whole family’s been waiting for you! Where’s your dignity as a man?"
I glanced inside. My aunt was sitting in the living room with Mateo and his fiancée. My parents hovered around them. They were eagerly handing them snacks and fruit and chatting away with bright smiles.