And what will you do if we let you go? I ask him in my mind. Will you try to get in here again? Next time, you could be looking at five years.
He hesitates, averts his eyes.
Seriously? I say. My God, is it worth it? Are things really that bad where you live?
And he just looks at me, as if to say: Would I keep trying if it didn't make sense to keep trying, if the possible reward didn't justify possibly getting caught? Do I look stupid?
He doesn't look stupid. He looks handsome and sad and ashamed.
But mostly what he looks is: busted.
Busted, and waiting to pay the price.
about a Mexican guy who gets caught crossing the border
this is one of the best moments in the essay (maybe the entire book)