by L. Upton Illig
“Running at the speed of light, racing ’till she’s out of sight—magnifico! Was she under 1:10?”
“What?” The boy’s hand twitched and his stopwatch fell to the ground. Its face peered up at him through broken glass. “Sorry. I missed it.” The bay filly he had been clocking hurtled around the backstretch and, with a flick of her long tail, disappeared around the turn.
“Madre de Dios! What’re you doing?”
