I peek out of ourroom toward the kitchen. They are huddled around a television as the methmerrily boils, unwatched and out of control. The ladle vibra...es in thepot, and I hasten to stir it, and avert the imminent explosion. Thekitchen is hot and putrid with toxic fumes. But the cholos are rapt, nowscreaming at the television, then screaming, hurling their half emptyCorona's against the wall in a fit of rage. "That faggot Ronaldo, he deserved a red card, and instead he gets agoal." Salvador is. ’ ‘What do I say?’ ‘My name, usually. Sometimes it’s almost like you’re awake.’ He nodded. ‘Perhaps part of me is?’ She was leaning in and looking into his eyes. ‘You’re staring again.’ ‘I can’t help it, they’re just so arresting. It’s like I’ve looked into them before. Isn’t that odd?’ He sipped his tea, trying not to look into her eyes again, afraid to let her know. ‘Do I say anything else… When I’m asleep that is?’ ‘No… You make noises, though.’ She looked down into her cup. ‘Sad noises, as. More

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