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?”…

ceramic plate.

I slid the makeshift feast toward the small figure huddled in the oversized oak chair.

Milagros—that was the name she had whispered to me when I first stumbled over her in the dark—reached out, not with her eyes, but with trembling, searching fingertips. She traced the jagged edge of the plate, orienting herself in the void. Only then continue reading …