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?”…

a grueling, incremental climb out of the abyss. I initially secured honest labor washing dishes at Mr. Ortiz’s taco stand. Months later, he recommended me for an apprenticeship at his cousin’s automotive repair garage. I permanently retired the rusted folding knife, burying it deep in a landfill.

I did, however, keep one memento. I retained the crinkled continue reading …