The Distant Ghost
The debt collector is family. That is the rule in the conventillos, the one that holds tighter than the law. Act I The smell of burnt coffee and damp wool hung in the cafeteria of the middle school, thick enough to chew. I stood behind the counter, the stainless steel cold against my palms, watching the students file in. They were a herd, head down, hungry. I was Amparo Guzmán, thirty-two, and...
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