Page 115 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

us.”
I skipped a few times on the sidewalk. My body really was as light as a
swallow’s. Could I fly, too?
I walked in front of the two shadows hanging on the wall and heard the sound
of weeping. It was a man and a woman. The woman’s shadow was a little
thicker. The outline of the man’s shadow was difficult to distinguish if you
didn’t look carefully. Perhaps this was because the woman had exerted herself
more in life. Why were they so woeful?
“The sun will come out again. Sooner or later, we’ll have nowhere to hide,”
the woman said through tears.
“You chose to get out of there. No one forced us,” the man said.
“I can’t help but belittle myself in there. I’d rather take the risk of leaving.”
“Sweetheart, I love you so much.”
The two shadows embraced briefly and separated quickly.
My skin felt prickly. All around, the dark green color was gradually

lightening: the sun was coming out. The two shadows both looked dejected: they
were elongated and thin on the old wall, as if wanting to blend in. Would they
die from being exposed to the sun?
It was hard to tolerate the sun. I had to slip back into the old house.
“I’ve come to occupy the space again,” I said to the Shadow People in the
house.
The room was silent. I smelled the broth. Had they slipped out like the two on
the wall? I groped my way to the large bed. It was empty. I wanted to lie down
and rest a while, but a sense of inferiority seeped out from the bottom of my
heart. This wasn’t my bed: how could I lie on it?
Then it would be all right if I lay down under the bed. I felt around under the
bed. There were cobwebs all around. I grabbed a large bunch of them. This gave

me goose bumps. I flicked my hands repeatedly and brushed them off
repeatedly, too. And still I was uncomfortable. The backs of my hands itched
and prickled. Had I been bitten by a poisonous insect? Little by little, I could see
the furniture in the room. I walked toward that enormous stove.
“Ha-ha.” Someone on the front of the stove laughed.
This was the person I had run into outside.
“You can’t drink that broth.”
“Why not?”
“Because you still have a tail. Wherever you go, you occupy space. This
broth isn’t for people like you. The old man thought that as soon as you entered
this room you’d be able to transform into one of us, but you still have a tail.”
This person apparently wanted to make things difficult for me.
“May I at least rest on the bed?”