that he couldn’t unplug. At first, he tried to banish all thoughts that caused him the worst grief—the torture sessions he endured in San Salvador, or the blurry face of his month-old daughter. But with every attempt, his body, rather than his conscious mind, came roaring back in refutation. There were cramps, migraines, night sweats, body aches. Juan lived in a haze of constant ailments. They flared up the farther away he got from El Salvador, just as he let his guard down, a tether he couldn’t break.
