That is how you survive at the top.
It is not how you survive a child’s voice.
When the little girl walked into Mercado Estrella that storm-heavy night in Guadalajara, you noticed her because she did not belong there. Everyone else moved through the store with the easy entitlement of people who had never had to count coins with wet hands. They wore polished shoes, expensive watches, soft perfume, and faces trained never to linger too long on suffering unless it was displayed inside a charity gala.
