15
Fingers entwined, I walk out into the night air with Andres. We walk for a block to a busier intersection to hail a cab. His hand squeezes hard around mine, and I start to protest when I sense his body stiffen. My attention focuses on his face, and he almost looks pained or scared. Confusion sets in. Andres shows no indication that he recognizes me standing here while I scrutinize his features. His stare is locked on something in the distance, and I attempt to follow it. He is peering across the street toward what seems to be another bar.
I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. At first glance, I think he’s looking at a rundown storefront until I notice the lit beer signs in the window. It appears to be a smaller dive bar. Nothing seems out of place for an entrance to a hole-in-the-
