Sofia’s thumb hovered over the green call button, her nail clicking rhythmically against the glass of her phone. She was sitting in a small kitchen in Morelia, the scent of damp pavement and fried corn drifting in through the window, but her mind was entirely occupied by a script.
“Her palms were slick with the kind of sweat usually reserved for job interviews or breakup conversations.”
She had written it on a yellow post-it note: “Could you please tell me the CAT and the total amount including fees?” She practiced it three times, whispering to the empty room. By the fourth time, her voice cracked. She wasn’t asking for a gift or a miracle; she was asking for the price of a product. Yet, her heart was hammering at 87 beats per minute, and her palms were slick with the kind of sweat usually reserved for job interviews or breakup conversations.
When the agent finally picked up, Sofia didn’t start with her question. She started with “Disculpe.” I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sorry for taking your time. I’m sorry for needing to know how much this $7007 peso loan is actually going to cost me over the next .