Charity

“Then when she finally takes my money and gives me the change and her eyelids turn upwards and I can see those great big eyes again, without warning that squishy, yellowy, orangey stuff inside my head becomes extra bright, then that hollow place right under my chin, above my collarbone, feels like it's being squeezed really tightly. It's like that feeling you get when you swallow rice without chewing it properly first. And that lump beings to move from my throat and travel slowly, slowly all the way downwards, until it ends up in a bigger place, a kind of open, roomy space-a place soft like a rabbit's ear. And with every breath I take, it begins to grow, it gets longer and wider. I've never seen the middle of the ocean or the edge of the sky, but maybe the kind of breeze that blows in those places now comes blowing in out of nowhere and I feel it wrapped around me. Like when you're holding a cat and you touch its soft belly. Or sticking your finger in a jar of jam and stirring, then slowly sinking in all the rest of your fingers. Or licking the sweet condensed milk at the bottom of your bowl of strawberries. Or when a blanket brushes the top of your feet. Or when butter turns transparent when it melts over your pancakes. As I stand gazing at Ms. Ice Sandwich, all of these things are happening to me, one on top of the other, right there in my rabbit's ear.

When I reach out to get my order from Ms. Ice Sandwich, the air suddenly goes cold. She's still turned in my direction, but her eyes have shifted to the next customer, and that magical breeze stops blowing. The blanket is ripped away, the condensed milk dries up, the cat runs off, and finally the rabbit's ear droops.”
― Mieko Kawakami, Ms Ice Sandwich