His professor, Dr. Lucía Herrera, was infamous for her severity. "A paper without a proper cover," she would intone, her glasses glinting like scalpels, "is a body without skin. It tells me you have already given up on order, on respect, on thought itself." Her requirements were a liturgical chant: top margin 4 cm, bottom 2.5, left 3, right 2. Name of university, name of department, chair, subject, title, author, registration number, professor's name, date. Each element in its sacred place. Font: Times New Roman, 12 points. No bold. No italics. No adornments.
Three days later, Dr. Herrera summoned him to her office. Miguel's stomach clenched. On her desk lay his project, the portada facing up. The photograph seemed to pulse under the fluorescent light. portadas para trabajos universitarios
"Sit down," she said.
"You violated three of them."
The night before submission, he printed it on matte, slightly textured paper. It felt like holding a small, powerful thing. His professor, Dr