This is my life, she concluded. The nightmare grinned back. Your destiny is performing.
Chapter 4
This morning, like the morning before, and the one before that, Mei tirelessly embroidered her life in a pall of dark mystery.
In the kitchen, under the dim light, the enormous space was open and hollow. The only table in the center looked like a small island, isolated and desolate. Near the gas burner, some good and bad taps were guarding the sink like a platoon. Opposite was a wide, long, polished board lying on two stable benches. In a corner of the table, a fi ne layer of dust covered the surface of three shelves. On each shelf, there were small things for needlework, like decorative pieces and parts, a light pair of scissors, rolls of colorful threads, needles of all sizes, stylish buttons, zips, and other odds and ends. On the other side of the board, a pile of coff ee-brown clothing was waiting. And next to it was a plain chair, where Mei was sitting and already embroidering.