“Hija, they’re no longer taking just years from us.”

She wrung her wrinkled hands, looked into her own eyes, and started to smile but stopped.

Por su futuro, she thought to herself.

“Now, we can sell our happiness for currency.”

Ya firmé. There’s no turning back.

“Mama, no, please.”

Tears fell from her tired eyes.

I don’t even have that much time left with her.

They barely had enough, but they had each other.

“I’ll get us out of here. Un día, Mama, I promise.”

She never felt deserving of her mother’s devotion, her love, her ability to make her laugh even when their bellies rumbled with hunger.

“Mr. Lowe said the procedure is harmless. Mija, I already signed.”

This time, tears fell from her daughter’s eyes.

“They are giving me a bonus for participating in the clinical trial.”

Her tired hands cut a slice of white bread in half.

Soon, she will know what it’s like to eat an entire meal.

“What have you done, Mama? The Lowes don’t care about you, about us, or any of our kind.”

Her bony hands reached over the thick cardboard box. It was a small treasure. Sturdy enough to hold two dishes and one glass, even her notebooks, although it was starting to bend at the sides.

“Cuidado, mija. I don’t think I’ll ever find a box as good as this one.”

She smiled again.

Y por qué no.

It’s still my smile for now.