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?”…

of black beans, and a glass of murky water that smelled faintly of copper pipes and neglect. Relying on muscle memory and sheer desperation, I leveraged my rusted pocketknife to pry the stubborn lid off the tin. The scraping metal echoed like a gunshot in the oppressive silence, but I managed to scoop the cold, gelatinous mass onto a tragically chipped continue reading …