The Weight of an Egg
· 6 min read
The southern sky was damp, humid like a freshly wrung towel hanging overhead. At the street corner, the old camphor tree, its leaves a dark green, stood silently. Old Zhou, carrying a chipped bamboo basket, ambled to the little shop at the mouth of the alley.
The shop belonged to Wang Saozi and had been open for some years. A faded blue cloth curtain covered half the doorway. When the wind blew, the curtain fluttered limply, revealing the soy sauce bottles, vinegar jars, and a basket of bright yellow eggs arranged inside.