Crying in H Mart

by Michelle Zauner

I’ll wonder what my mom would have looked like in her seventies,

I’m angry at this old Korean woman I don’t know, that she gets to live and my mother does not,

Every time I remember that my mother is dead, it feels like I’m colliding with a wall that won’t give. There’s no escape, just a hard surface that I keep ramming into over and over, a reminder of the immutable reality that I will never see her again.