same drink, same sister

The server called her my sister. I have no sister. I stood behind the menu and my hands went cold and the word sat between us like it had always been true and everyone in the cafe was just catching up. She did not correct it. The woman with my haircut and my canvas tote looked at me over the iced Americano and smiled the kind of smile you give someone you've been waiting for, and I thought — oh. So that's what's happening. Someone has been studying me. Someone has been wearing me.

I left through the kitchen. I did not wait for Han Ji-soo. I am not proud of that.

I rescheduled for Mapo. Two subway lines away. I will sit with my back to the wall tomorrow and I will not look at the window and I will not drink anything I did not order. That is the rule now. That is my whole life.

~~Moving~~. I printed the BUILDING photo at the convenience store and slid it into the envelope beside the tooth and the hair and stood under fluorescent light thinking about my mother's hands on packing tape in Ansan. She taped boxes with her teeth. I remember that. I do not know why I remember that today. Tomorrow I meet a man whose face I have never seen and I want to bring him tangerines because my mother always brought tangerines to people she wanted to trust.

The lobby code is still changed. The superintendent still shrugs. I climb six flights and count landings and on the fourth one I always think about giving up everything and going home and letting my mother tape me into a box too.