Now and then, her sons began to interrupt her by asking questions like,“What time now?” “How much longer to wait?” and “When will the rain stop?”Her only answer was, “Soon.”
Then the bus came. They took their seats wearily.
Mei couldn’t stop thinking of the asshole. Outside, the passing trees seemed to be the shadow of the asshole. Inside, the emptiness stabbed at her vulnerability. Without the two sons, for her, there was no sense of home.
Yet she sensed home everywhere from the vividly changing faces as the wheels rolled to the town. She sensed home from an old couple crossing the street hand in hand, a middle-aged couple running a small hardware shop, a young couple eating MacDonald with their kids laughing. But her fear was telling her, Your home is nowhere.