Takashimaya

Once, fourth grade, as sad as this, though not as sad as in years to follow, I did not go to school, I spent the morning with my mother, we walked around near MoMA and sat at LPQ. Takashimaya was closing and my father met us there, at our prompting she bought two raincoats, a purple, a pink, and a black Yeohlee dress for funerals, still sometimes worn. As we were leaving we saw my former math teacher, Mrs. S, who had mysteriously left the school months prior, who looked and spoke exactly like Kathy Griffin, bellicose, in orange wedges. Seeing her as I saw her then, her hair nearly flipped, terrified she would ask me why I was there, shopping...why wasn’t I in class, only she didn’t, all went naturally, was peaceful, well.