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In Argentina, cash is king. An enlightened despot when your pockets are full, and a wrathful monarch when you’re insolvent. Amid a frantic departure from Buenos Aires, I learned this lesson the hard way.

I was in Argentina to visit my girlfriend. We met in Brooklyn, where she’d moved for a job. She worked as an au pair for a family with an infant. The company she was hired through sponsored her visa. We had been dating for almost a year when the family moved to California, and thus she chose not to renew her contract. Rather than help her find a new placement, the company dropped her. She lost her visa and had to move back to Argentina.

Despite the bad circumstance that forced her to move home, we decided to make the most of the trip. I was excited to visit my girlfriend and her family and learn about her home country. We toured Argentina, rounding out our trip in Buenos Aires. More… “Cashed Out in Buenos Aires”

T.K. Mills is a writer who lives in Bushwick, Brooklyn. He runs the art column for OpenLetr, and is a regular contributor to the street art magazine, Sold Mag. T.K. has also been published in The Vignette ReviewGlobal Street ArtLiterate Sunday, and The American Dissident, among others. His story, “Nicotine Traces”, was selected for the Summer ’16 anthology of Catalogue. To read more by T.K. Mills, check out his portfolio, visit tkmills.com.

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I pulled a packaged alfajor that I bought for breakfast at the bus station out of my backpack and got into my new hotel room hide-a-bed. The photo on the foil packet of two sugar cookies held together by a thick layer of dulce de leche and coated in shiny chocolate promised a good time, but what the actual snack delivered, to my amazement, was a sensation that felt like 400 calories of pure, uncritical love. I spent some time in bed smelling the package.

When I offered the wrapper to my Israeli friend Hadar for her to smell, she turned me down from her bed, where she was examining the split ends of her curly blond bangs while she smoked.

“Disgusting,” she said. “Sweets are disgusting.” She pronounced the second syllable in a throaty way, but the amount of time and spit she spent on the… More…