Chapter 2
The door slammed shut.
The room went dead silent.
All that was left was a mess of broken things scattered across the floor.
The wind drifted in through the window.
I stood there for what felt like ages.
Then, with aching knees, I slowly crouched down.
One by one, I picked up the shattered pieces of the bowl.
My hand got scratched up.
It hurt a bit, but I didn't stop.
I tried to fit the pieces back together, one by one.
But they wouldn't go back together.
Even if the pieces wouldn't fit, I still tried to put them together.
It was pitch black outside.
Out by the graveyard, the wind was blowing.
It was like someone was walking out there.
I placed the last piece down.
I sat right down on the floor and whispered, "I'm not leaving."
Just then, there was a sudden bang at the door.
Something had been slapped onto the door.
The bang outside made me jump.
I slowly got to my feet, steadying myself against the wall as I made my way to the door.
The door was old, creaking in the wind.
A sheet of paper was pasted on it.
I couldn't see much. All I could see was just a few bright red characters, square and neat, that looked like something official from the government.
I pulled the door open a crack, but the alley was empty.
The wind swept in from outside, making the corners of the paper flutter noisily.
I reached out, peeled it off, and held it up to the light to get a better look.
But I didn't know many words.
When I was young, my family was very poor. I only attended school for two years before life took me to the fields, the factory, and home. Being able to read a few common words was already quite an achievement for me.
I stared at the paper for a long time.
All I could make out was the word "notice."
The rest was just a jumble of words I couldn't make sense of.
I folded the paper and tucked it under the edge of the table, then went back to cleaning up the mess on the floor.
I managed to get the table upright, but its legs were all crooked and wobbly.
I picked up the basin; it had a big crack running along the rim.
The bowls got it the worst; not a single one was left intact.
My back was sore and my legs were numb from crouching for so long.
Still, I kept cleaning up, bit by bit.
No matter how shabby this house was, it was still a house.
No matter how broken my things were, they were still mine.
By the time I'd finished cleaning up, dawn was almost breaking.
I sat on the edge of the bed and dozed off for a bit.
Early the next morning, the alley was buzzing with activity.
People were yelling outside.
"They slapped one on Bruce's door too."
"Are they really gonna tear down the whole neighborhood?"
"Yeah, probably. They put up a whole row last night."
I jolted awake.
I picked up the paper and opened the door, stepping outside.
There were quite a few people standing in the alley.
Some were holding papers too, while others were looking up at the notices posted on their own doors.
I stood at the edge of the crowd, not daring to get too close.
Kelly Jones from next door was the first to notice me.
She glanced at me, then noticed the paper in my hand, and her expression turned a bit strange.
"You got one too?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Kelly, what's this say?" I asked.
She took the paper from me, glanced at it, and her voice suddenly got louder.
"Wow, so it really is a demolition notice," Kelly said.
A few people around turned to stare at me.
"Her place is included too?"
"Didn't she get kicked out a long time ago?"
"Isn't that house her man's?"
"Who knows?"
The voices were loud enough for me to catch every word.
I gripped the paper tightly and stayed silent.
Kelly gave the notice back, her voice tinged with both envy and curiosity.
"It says the owner has to go to the community office soon to register, check who's living here, sort out the property rights, and see about the compensation."
I froze for a second.
"The owner?" I asked.
"Yeah," Kelly Jones looked at me. "Do you know where your deed is?"
My heart skipped a beat.
I hadn't seen the deed in years.
He handled everything at home.
He kept the bankbook, the deed, even my ID all to himself.
We scraped together the money to buy this old house.
But after we moved out to the new house, I never touched any of that stuff again.
I kept quiet.
Someone nearby snickered.
"She can't even read, and she's talking about signing up?"
"Don't get too excited just yet."
"Yeah, just 'cause they slapped a notice on your door doesn't mean you'll see a dime."
My cheeks grew hot, not from heat, but from shame.
It felt like someone had ripped my clothes off in front of everyone, and I had nowhere to run.
I hung my head, wishing I could just slip back inside.
Just then, a car pulled up at the entrance of the alley.
Two community workers in uniform vests got out of the car.