When I was five years old, my mother told me a story about the peaches in Sevilla de Oro. My father had just thrown my only pair of sneakers out of the living room window. When I say throw, what I mean is launched them like a cannonball. I had been complaining every day that they didn’t feel right. My father asked if they were tight, and in the middle of my hysterics I answered that they weren’t. This enraged him and his yelling made me shake. He told me to take off my sneakers. He opened the window and threw them as far as he could. They landed in a construction zone.