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Hate the stigma, though—folks judgin’. Like, who cares? She’s workin’, I’m payin’, end of story. Funniest part? She smelled like cheap perfume and tuna—dock life, baby. Cracked me up, thinkin’, “This is my Brokeback moment.” No mountains, just fish guts and a quickie. “Truth is, sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it,” I mutter, half-jokin’, half-serious. She rolls her eyes—fair.

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So, we’re walking down Avenida de la Esperanza, and I’m trying to cheer her up. I’m like, “Let’s hit up the market. Fresh fruit will fix everything!” We get to Mercado Central, and it’s packed. Like, sardines in a can packed. I can’t even move. But the smell? Oh man, fresh empanadas everywhere. My stomach’s growling like a bear.

Q&A: Markelle Grabo, Author of ‘Call Forth A Fox’