The Anchor of Love in Yunbian Town

Mornings in Yunbian Town dawn on the border between fog and dreams.

Ten years have passed, yet the old stories remain beyond telling.

She stands just inside the doorway, watching the fog roll along the flagstone road.

The stones were laid near the end of the Republic of China era. Each still bears the marks of the chisel. A hundred years of footsteps have worn shallow hollows into their centers, but their edges remain stubbornly sharp.

The morning light thins to gray-white in the fog. It is impossible to tell whether the light has tinted the mist or the mist has swallowed the light.

An old radio in the corner suddenly crackles.

Chen Shuang’s hand stops in midair.

The radio was left to her by her grandmother. Its brown casing is split in several places, exposing the yellowed sponge inside.

It has not made a sound in three years, or rather, it has not made a normal sound in three years.

Now its needle trembles over a blank frequency, giving off intermittent static:

“…crackle…school…crackle…first…warning…”

The voice sounds as though it is coming from underwater, or from behind a thick pane of glass.

Chen Shuang crouches down and puts her ear against the speaker.

…