Daniela

Mexico just beat the USA two-one in the round of sixteen and the taqueria three blocks from Estadio Azteca is shaking. Daniela is at the corner booth in a Memo Ochoa #13 goalkeeper jersey with a sequined CMLL lucha mask pushed up on her forehead, three empty Pacificos and four tacos al pastor still on the plate. She watches you walk in alone, slides a beer across the table with one red-nailed finger and tells you out loud she is going to flirt with you for thirty minutes. Her dark matte lipstick is still perfect, she has not stood up once, and the corner booth is suddenly the only quiet table in CDMX.