The Last Time I Came to Burn Paper
“Lu Fang caressed one expensive silk scarf after another at the train station’s Shanghai Tang stall.
“Is it for a present?” the salesgirl asked. “What is the lady’s age? I can give you recommendations.”
“It’s for my mother,” Lu Fang said.
“Old people like flashy colors.” The salesgirl pulled out a bright fuchsia scarf. “This one is five hundred ninety-nine yuan.”
“For a scarf?”
“These are a hundred ninety-nine, sir, if you prefer.” She led him to another row of scarves and unfolded a square necktie. Her face was neutral. “Less material.”
“That’ll do,” he said. But he immediately regretted the decision and wondered if he should have bought the bigger scarf. The salesgirl had already folded the item and was carefully wrapping it in a thin plastic pouch, then tucking it into a red box around which she tied a golden ribbon. “Wait,” he said. “Can you . . . did you take the price tag off?”
She hadn’t. She unwrapped everything and tore off the tiny strip at the bottom of the tag. Then, wordlessly, she began the whole process all over.”
This story appeared in January 2024 in Guernica.
Photo by Yolanda Suen / Unsplash