A Full-Length Story from “Kafka in a Skirt: Stories from the Wall®”



Mom barged into my room and started sweeping and commanding me to pick up this T-shirt, that shoe.

“And that!” she yelled, pointing inside my closet.


“¡Esta chingadera!”

“Chinga-what? ¿Qué es . . . ?”

“Throw it away, you pig!”

I looked inside the closet, and I was afraid of what I might see, but I didn’t see anything that looked like it might be called a chingadera.

She hit me on my leg with the broom. “¡Cochino!” It stung. “¡Tíralo!”

I got on my knees to find the chingadera.

I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I somehow knew I would spend the rest of my life hiding it from others.













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