“He hid bloodshot whites behind sunglasses and drank water from a plastic bottle whenever his mouth suggested even a hint of going dry. He parked a hundred yards from the colonia’s bus stop and watched the young women come and go in the unfettered sun. Some of the buses were from the city, but most came from the maquiladoras themselves. Once upon a time Ana Sevilla rode a bus like those, the lights doused before dawn or after sunset to save that little bit of power for the owners of the plan...ts. The regularity of them was hypnotizing, and Sevilla could have let the whole day pass with their comings and goings. Once he saw a black pick-up truck patrol along the unpaved road with two men in the king cab. They passed close to Sevilla’s car and were gone. Sevilla watched for Ella Arellano among the women and the buses but she did not appear. He would have to go in. In his time Sevilla had seen worse colonias, some so close to the maquilas that one could throw a stone from one to the other if there wasn’t a wall in the way.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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