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?”…

doesn’t carry the scent of rot,” she stated pragmatically.

What followed was a spectacle that shattered whatever remained of my hardened exterior. She consumed the cold, unseasoned beans as though partaking in a royal banquet. I observed every deliberate, careful sweep of her spoon, the sight forcibly dragging my memories backward. Suddenly, I wasn’t continue reading …