Teach Me, Reiko

It was the beginning of the rainy season. My stomach had just begun convulsing to memories of burning my skin off in a gas flame when I noticed my student Reiko was struggling with a conditional clause. I coaxed out of her the statement that if there were no speed limit, there would be more car crashes. Very good, Reiko. What would happen if there were no babies? If there were no babies, there’d be more old people. Really? What about if there were no music? If there were no music, there would be more ice hockey. No cosmetics? More ugly women. No umbrellas? More wet beds. No stomachs? More livers. Dear, sweet unwed Reiko with your cat and your evening bath, I understand what you’re trying to show me: with one spontaneous absence in the world, another thing rushes in lopsided to take its place.