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published. She was a young girl when these books and recipes and games of divination were first introduced. To all around her, she looks young, suspiciously so. Plastic surgery some suggest, but that would be impossible, not in this backwater town, not at this time. Some mysterious, romantic past at the capital then? The old people unfold their vinyl chairs in the street at night, lounge in their pajamas, fan themselves, and twitter on about the day when they were children and she arrived. Some kind of devil? A fox spirit? That is the most satisfactory answer, but no one dare utter it. The doctor has heard these stories, and he enjoys the idea of a fox spirit, even though he does not believe it. He brings up this theory with the woman, and she snorts.  |
People will talk about anything, she says. Yes, the doctor says apologetically, loosening his silk tie. One can ascertain his status merely by the glasses he wears -- they are sleek, thin, almost invisible against his high-boned cheeks. Now he takes them off and looks at the woman: her face is an oval blur. Still, it is amazing how you stay so youthful. What's the secret? No secret, she says. She appraises her face in the dressing table mirror. There is the beginning of a wrinkle just above the bridge of her nose. Lately she has been given to renewing her morning martial arts routine in the remnants of the main hall. The chairs have been hacked up, random  |
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