The smuggler swore we would cross at night and in silence… but in the middle of the desert, my sister started screaming that someone was walking behind us without leaving footprints. When I turned around, I didn’t see anyone… except for my son pointing into the darkness and saying: “Mom, that lady says you already abandoned us here once.”
The dirt was still wedged between the red letters of the name as if it had just been unearthed—as if it had been waiting for that exact hand, on that exact night, to come looking for me once more. Marisol. My sister saw the look on my face and stopped asking questions. She barely managed…