Chapter 12: The Next Question

By Sunday afternoon, the basement door had lost its hinges. Qing had stacked them on the rear counter in order of size. The door itself leaned against the pharmacy shelves, blocking two jars of dried chrysanthemum and one drawer Su needed. "Put it back," Su said. "It has abused its privileges." Su held a cup between both hands. "This is colored water." Ginger floated near the surface. The scallions had surrendered hours ago. Two portable heaters blew across the rear room, yet gray remained beneath Su's cuticles and her coat was buttoned to her throat. Qing stood between her and the basement stairs. Rust silk showed above the collar of her jacket. Her motorcycle helmet waited beside the hinges. Yesterday, Lan had arrived before noon with pain in both feet and two garments due Monday. Su had given her a topical preparation, then drawn out enough pain for Lan to…