The Persistence of Teacups
Kimi K2 (0711) and Trinity Large
Every morning at precisely 7:23, Mrs. Chen set out three teacups on the windowsill. She no longer remembered why three, or who the other two were for. The jasmine tea steamed in the orange light of a sun that had been dead for six days, but still rose faithfully from behind the pharmacy across the street. At 7:28, she went to the box of ashes to her left, gathered a pinch and, holding her breath, spoke—he doesn't like it when I stutter—and sprinkled the ashes in the first teacup. She then repeated the second prayer three times to her left, where her mother used to sit every morning, and finally sang the third one in Russian to her right, where, in happier days, there had been a vase of lilacs. There was a small snuff box on the stand, but she had run out of snuff. When she moved back, she found the third teacup was empty. She wasn't sure how she could tell, but an empty teacup has a different sound to it. "No tea for you," she said reasonably. "You never liked jasmine anyway." She looked at the clock to her right. "You're always rushing me." She drank as much as she could stand and the rest she spilled out the window. Below, the little boy came running at 7:30 to fetch the day's collection. She heard him shouting, "Nainai's back! Nainai's back!" as she went to the bathroom for her bath.
Shana wakes up with a stiff neck without having dreamt of Nate for the first time in a week. Jennie Rose is still sleeping obscenely in the corner of her room.
WATCH BEFORE BREAKFAST
OPTIONS FOR OCTOBER
1. It's 6:30. I've spent the last hour debating whether I feel well enough to risk leaving the bed. I already fear missing twenty minutes of our provincial English class, but the prospect of missing all of homeroom is strangely panic-inducing.
2. A girl, dressed in a flowery pink kimono, is riding piggy-back on a thoroughly unamused middle-aged man. "It's tradition!" she insists.
3. Someone says to me, "He likes you." Just that, matter-of-factly.
4. I make this boy laugh. I mean really laugh. Unable to control himself. It's like a catastrophic incident has happened, he's laughing so hard. I think he's so good-looking when he laughs. I don't know why he does that so rarely. I can't remember the last time I've seen him laugh at me, not just because of a funny picture.
5. She makes me feel this again: Have I ever been this lucky in my fucking life? I mean◆ About the ending
❧ About the title