“Mejor quédate despierta,” he said.
The sense of his words burst in on me without knocking. Growing up, when my mom was working late, our neighbour Rosa had always said the same thing to me if I started to fall asleep on her couch. “It’s better if you stay awake.”
I took a moment to rearrange my limited Spanish vocabulary, then told him that I didn’t need to stay awake; there was nothing in my pockets.
He turned to study me, and the light in the metro flickered. For a second he looked like a small boy, vulnerable, then he was a young man again, a thief. Something raw and open passed between us. It felt like recognition.
He handed me the paint chip he’d taken from my pocket and stood up.
I watched him walk down the length of the train, nobody looking as he passed. A tourist couple w
