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Tucson, Arizona, USA. May 20, 10.08pm
José Ramirez pulled the blanket closer around him as he curled into the doorway, trying to make himself invisible.
He had walked most of the day, always moving, to avoid the police who seemed to be on every corner. He had tried to cultivate an air of going somewhere, of being on an errand. He didn’t want to seem journey-less. Arizona was cracking down on illegal immigrants, but how did America expect them to stop coming when there was opportunity here, even if you had to fight to get it? José had spent his last coins on a meal earlier and considered how he would make it through tomorrow. Maybe his cousin would help out, if he could only make it that far north. But at least the Tucson streets were warm enough all year round to make waking up tomor
