ALMSTHIS TIME Esperanza knew her way around. She knew where Luis kept his bag of tools and lunchbox, where he hung his street clothes. Passing
the locker, which was open, she saw that it still contained Luis’s workman’s T-shirt hanging limply on a plastic hanger. A spasm of loss suddenly choked her, making her feel so faint
that she leaned on the locker, closing it. In a whirling instant she saw whole this particular world of Luis: this unkempt corner stained by filth and sweat, and farther away, the microcosm of
machine and metal. Something tightened inside her, and she thought she would collapse. But then she heard the whirr of the welder’s torch, reminding her of Luis and why she had come to the
shop again.
For a long while, she stood hesitating at the office door, wanting to go in
