Un Par De Botas

Sitting in his office, the commissioner was flipping through files
When the corporal showed up bringing the detainee
A young man of thirty, at most
He was wearing gray pants and a worn-out shirt, clothes that judging by their age
Gave evidence of their owner's poverty

- The sergeant handed him over, commissioner, this is the one who stole some boots from the Paz's bar two days ago
- Some boots? Uh-huh
- Cheap thief
- What's your name?
- Orencio Nievas
- Where are you from?
- Right from here, sir
- Do you work?
- No sir, I can't find work
I was hired for the harvest at the Barcala farm, but as soon as the corn gathering was over, they fired me
Now I do odd jobs and that's how I live
- What do you call odd jobs, stealing?
The countryman lowered his gaze to the ground
- Where are the boots?
- In the ranch
- Corporal, go get them and take this thief to the cell, we'll see how much we give him
The corporal left with the detainee and the commissioner stayed thinking
- A pair of boots
These lazy countrymen are not even good for stealing
Not two hours had passed when a policeman stood at the door
- With your permission
Here are the boots, commissioner, the detainee's wife gave them to me, their son, a little boy of about seven, was wearing them
- Uh-huh, so these are the boots?
They are too small to dirty their hands
What did the woman say?
- Nothing, she cried like a Magdalene, commissioner, and as I was leaving, she gave me this letter to deliver to you. In your own hands
- Let me see_
Hmm, women asking things from their husbands, nothing more natural, but the bad thing is that they always find angels even if they cast a shadow on the devil himself
But this letter was different from all
Written on a dirty and wrinkled brown paper
The words were a clumsy row of scribbles, stamped with the grace and innocence of that seven-year-old child, completely unaware of the misfortune that poverty had brought upon their ranch
The commissioner's brow furrowed as he deciphered it
And as he finished reading, the paper trembled in his hands
- Agent
- Yes, commissioner
- Go and return Nievas' wife the boots she brought, tell her.. Tell her it was a mistake, apologize to her
Then ask the barkeeper how much the boots cost, pay for them and forget the case
Wait, wait, don't leave
Release Orencio Nievas right away, and make sure he comes here tomorrow
Maybe I've found him some work
The policeman left after the order, the commissioner settled in his chair, and as he rolled some tobacco, he reread that letter, which still trembled like a bird fluttering in his hands

- Wise men
I ask you to remember this year to bring me the little boots
I am good, and as I've been told, the other kids
If one behaves well all year, you don't forget the gift
As he looked away from the page, he felt a burning sensation in his chest, and let out his anger murmuring
As long as poverty turns people into thieves
I will never... Serve as a commissioner