Ricardo is squinting at page 13 of a document that feels heavier than the money it promises to deliver. He is a graphic designer in Tlaxcala, a man who spends his days obsessed with kerning and color hex codes, yet he is currently defeated by a single paragraph of black-and-white text.

He has a yellow highlighter in his dexterous hand, and he has already bled the ink dry on five specific terms: “Plazo,” “Comisión por apertura,” “Interés moratorio,” “IVA sobre intereses,” and the most terrifying acronym in the Mexican financial lexicon: “CAT.”

The Decryption via SMS

He pauses, pulls out his phone-which I have spent the last 23 minutes cleaning with a microfiber cloth until the screen reflects the fluorescent lights of this cafe like a dark mirror-and begins to text a friend. This friend, Eduardo, has worked in a bank for 13 years.

“The ‘CAT’ is just the total cost of the party once you include the drinks, the music, and the cleanup crew, and the ‘interés moratorio’ is the punishment for being a ghost.”

– Eduardo, Banking Professional

Watching Ricardo from three tables away, I recognize