Page 117 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

young man. Finally it was being realized, but why was I still wavering between
considerations of gain and loss? People are never content.
It was noisy outside: people were coming back. They probably saw me, for
they fell silent. Just then I was squatting, sticking tightly to the side of the stove.
I figured they hadn’t yet made up their minds whether they wanted to drive me

out again. I was prepared to leave at once if they drove me out.
“I never imagined that he could be transformed this way.” The cook was the
first to speak. “He just has a tail left on the outside.”
“Now we probably shouldn’t drive him out,” said the old man who had slept
beside me.
They all entered, leaving the door wide open. At this moment, the light
outside was very strong; it shone snow white on the area next to the entrance. I
figured they had left the door open for me. I thought they wanted me to decide
on my own to leave. The stillness in the house had told me this much. Gnashing
my teeth, I rushed out. I rushed out with my feet, certainly not with my tail. It
was only they who could see my tail.
I heard people inside the room applauding. They appreciated what I had done.
The burning sun stabbed my skin, and I ran around crazily. I wanted to find a
shady spot for shelter. All unaware, I fell into an underground carport. I could
finally relax. The gasoline odor was hard to take. I looked up. Several shadows
were hanging on the damp wall. They kept whispering.

“Is this up or down?”
“I think it’s up.”
“I think it’s down. Isn’t there something dusky here?”
“Take another look. It definitely isn’t something dusky.”
“No, it isn’t. There is layer upon layer inside. Then it must be up.”
“I don’t think it’s up, either. If it were up, then how could people trample on
that thing?”
A big truck drove up, dark and blurry. But it was a strange truck—it made no
noise. That was terrifying. It was being driven slowly, and it approached
gradually. The guys on the wall were silent. The truck scraped against the wall
as it drove up. Was it going to crush me to death? Clinging to the wall, I stood
on tiptoe. How I wished I could hang effortlessly on the wall as these people
were doing.

“Help!” I heard myself shout.
But it drove past, and I was still alive. I had just let out a sigh of relief when it
came back.
“This time, it’ll turn him into meat pie,” someone above me said.
I held my breath, feeling absolute despair. It was my destiny, since I couldn’t
transform myself into a shadow. When it pounded past, my ribs hurt a little,