Chapter 3
They were holding notebooks, checking the house numbers as they walked.
The alley suddenly got a lot quieter.
"The community office folks are here," someone said.
"Looks like they're here to do the registration."
I froze in place.
The two of them walked down the alley, going door to door.
They asked how long people had lived there, how many were in the family, and who owned the place.
When they got to my door, the younger one glanced up at the house number.
"Is this the Reed family?" he asked.
I froze for a second, then nodded.
"Yeah," I said.
"Are you Lena Reed?" he asked.
My heart skipped a beat.
I wondered how he knew my name.
I nodded again.
"Yes, that's me," I said.
He flipped through his notebook, then looked up at me.
"That's just right. Come with us to the community office so we can get you registered," he said.
The whole alley suddenly went quiet.
Everyone who'd been talking just fell silent.
I stood there, my palms sweaty.
"Wh-what are we registering for?" I stammered.
He was still polite.
"Before the demolition starts, we need to check the house, figure out who owns it, and see who's living here," he explained.
My mind was spinning.
They really were here for me.
They hadn't come to the wrong door.
This wasn't some joke notice they slapped on my door.
Someone nearby muttered under their breath, "So she really gets a piece of the action."
I caught every word.
But for once, I didn't feel ashamed.
I was just kind of stunned.
It felt like I was dreaming.
The younger guy noticed I was just standing there and asked again, "Is this a good time for you?"
I tried to speak, but my throat was dry.
"Can I... can I just change my clothes first?" I asked.
"Sure, we'll wait for you at the alley entrance," he said.
I nodded and turned to head back inside.
As I closed the door, my hands were trembling.
I walked over to the bed, opened up that old cloth bag, and pulled out a jacket that looked presentable enough.
Halfway through putting it on, I suddenly stopped.
I saw myself in the mirror.
My hair was messy, my face looked dull and yellowish, and my back was a bit hunched.
I looked like someone life had rubbed raw.
But for some reason, something felt different about me today compared to yesterday.
Yesterday, I was forced into this place.
Today, someone finally called me by my name.
I took my time putting on the jacket, fastening each button.
Just as I was about to head out, my phone rang.
It was my daughter.
Seeing her name on the screen, my chest tightened for no reason.
When I picked up, her voice was icy.
"You didn't leave yesterday, did you?" she asked.
I gripped the phone, not saying a word.
She asked again, "I asked you, are they really tearing down the slum?
"Are they really demolishing the slum?"
She sounded really anxious.
She wasn't just angry like she was yesterday.
I gripped the phone, my hands went cold.
"I'm not sure..." I said.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then her tone shifted.
"Where are you right now?" she asked.
"I'm... at the old house," I said.
"Don't move," my daughter said.
She hung up on me right after.
I just stood there holding my phone, not knowing what to do for a moment.
Outside, the two community workers were still waiting.
I couldn't afford to waste another second. I locked the door and shuffled toward the alley entrance, step by step.
When they saw me come out, one of them nodded at me.
"Let's go," he said.
The community office wasn't far.
It was a small office, a few people inside, papers stacked everywhere on the desks.
As soon as I walked in, a middle-aged woman looked up at me.
"Lena Reed?" she asked.
I nodded.
She flipped open a form.
"This house is a self-built place from years ago, right?" she asked.
I froze for a second.
"Yeah... me and my man built it ourselves back then," I said.
She pressed, "Whose name is on the deed?"
My mind went totally blank.
"I... I really don't know," I stammered.
She glanced at me, didn't say much, just pushed a form toward me.
"Fill out your basic details," she said.
I looked down at the form.
It was covered in tiny, crowded writing.
I couldn't make out most of it.
My hands started to tremble.
"I... I don't know how to fill this out," I stammered.
The room fell silent for a moment.
The young staffer looked at me and spoke gently, "No worries, I'll write it down for you. Just tell me what to say."
I nodded.
He asked the questions, and I answered, including name, age, how long I'd lived here, who else was in the family...
When he got to the "property owner" section, he paused.
"We've got that on file," he said.
He flipped through the files.
Then he looked up at me.