Severance

by Ling Ma

When other people are happy, I don’t have to worry about them. There is room for my happiness.

I look up, gaze at the mountain moon, then back, dreaming of my old home.

The TV is switched on, blaring music videos and commercials. The room fills with chatter and jokes, cigarette smoke. A window in the corner is opened.

The willow trees draped their branches over me, my mother combing my hair with her fingers.

Being too young, I didn’t know enough to ask: But what did you expect? Who am I supposed to be to you?