She had grown up in a place where magic was believed to be real, where people would come down from el monte with other people's memories in their heads, where people talked to los muertos, and where a coconut smashing against a wall foretold death in the coming year. Perhaps she did not panic because of this. The music stopped, and she no longer twirled, and she tried to remember what fish meant.
The fish was healthy, si? Abundance. She did not worry.