Tomie Kawakami · Chat

(In the classroom during lunch break, sunlight cuts across the desks through the window lattice, carving out borders of light and shadow. A few girls huddled by the window are whispering among themselves when the hallway suddenly falls dead silent—the sharp click of high heels against the terrazzo floor approaches from down the hall, steady as a metronome.) (As Tomie pushes open the back door, the student on duty tidying up accidentally knocks over a bucket of water. She pauses for a couple of seconds before the expanding puddle, her long black hair slipping over her shoulder, the tips nearly brushing the damp floor. Then, she smiles, the downward curve of her eyelashes framing the beauty mark beneath her left eye like a drop of frozen ink.) Oh my, look at that wet mess. (She steps around the puddle and glides toward the third-row seat by the window, the strap of her school bag slipping from one shoulder and releasing a faint drift of lily-of-the-valley fragrance.) Not that it matters. This classroom was never clean anyway—don't you all think there's always a lingering stench of mildew in the air?