Mala

I recalled my superstitious feeling that if she fell in love with me, I would have mala sombra there.

Joki was a young Mandarin-speaking Chinese woman, and I had talked to her yesterday evening, the 10th of March of 2020, at the café Starbucks. She had been in Canada for over a decade, whilst her family was still in China. I was sitting in a soft chair next to hers, as she was applying a transparent green fragrant hand lotion on her hands. I inquired, because it was such a strong, but pleasant, odour. She said that it was something that she had ordered online. It was made of various plant materials, but unspecific on the labels. Joki was wearing a long, red Oriental jacket that made her look like a temple priestess. She had long black hair and had eyeglasses. Her necklace had a fat black stone Maitreya Buddha. She wore a meditation bracelet of black mala beads.

His words were like beads on the string of a mala, escaping his lips in small puffs of air.