I broke into a house in Coyoacán to steal, but found a blind girl tied to a chair. She whispered, “Did my mom come back to sell me again?” I decided to steal her back instead. As we reached the front door, heavy footsteps echoed from the dark hallway, and a voice growled, “Who is in there?”…

you are still on the premises,” she announced, her voice echoing with a calm, chilling authority. “Whoever you happen to be, you selected the absolute worst property to burglarize tonight.”

Perhaps her assessment was accurate. Maybe I had picked the wrong house to rob, I thought, my grip tightening on the handle of my rusted blade. But she had undeniably continue reading …