She had been there at the mass rally at the university the week before the struggle began to overthrow the regime.
He had been there, too.
Their voices joined together with the voices of hundreds and thousands of students, campesinos, professors, and rebel leaders and rumbled across the night sky to the furthest parts of the island.
"We ask for a fair price for beans and rice!
We ask for schools for our children!
We ask for care from doctors and hospitals when we are sick!
We ask for work so we can build up these things for our people because we need them to live!
We need them to live!"
It was then that he had seen her for the first time.
Her fist was clenched and raised to the sky.
Her hair hung down around her shoulders.
Her brown eyes glistened under the lights of the field where they shouted and sang their hopes and dreams for their country, for their poor families, for their people.
He knew their courage and compassion would draw them together and bond them as friends.
In those first days, he thought of what it might be like to hear her stories, to share his stories, to be with her as they were together now, naked and holding each other, protecting each other, loving each other.
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