A man drove an SUV into the mall I took
my first steps in. A dark car tore through the
Sears dressing rooms where I put my first
bra on. Backwards. The kiosks I purposely
ignore, the Cinnabon counter I can’t, all reduced
to shatter. The tiled floor is scorched with tire tracks,
and if you looked down from the skylight you’d see the
sprawl of car parts jettisoned across the Looney Tunes
play place. It’s strange, this small town heartburn. I am
hundreds of miles away, but the headlines still cut circles
under my feet. Nothing is as gutting as realizing just how
hard memory can grip somewhere you won’t recognize
in a few years. Nothing as bizarre than that building
being taken down from the bottom up.
— Published 4th of August 2020
About Nila Narain