By Huina Zheng
Ling frowned as the dark-haired woman, breathless, pushed open the door.
“The new caregiver? You’re late.”
“Sorry, the traffic,” the woman said, wheeling her into the courtyard.
The yard rang with the shrill of cicadas; even the breeze carried a burning heat. Under the shade of a tree, she peeled a lychee and placed it in Ling’s palm.
“My daughter loves these,” Ling whispered. When she finished, she held out her hand.
“Another.”
The woman clasped it instead, smiling through wet eyes. “Mom, you always warned: too many mean fever and mouth sores. One is enough, remember? That was our rule.”
Poignant and very nicely done.
Sad but beautiful.