It has been three months since her grandmother Kiyo died. Sukumo Riko has been going to the house after her shop closes and on her days off, getting it ready for sale. At the clothing store in town she puts price tags on garments without a flicker of hesitation. She fills boxes at the house with the same briskness, yet in front of the mirrors she stops, calls the white cloths a nuisance, and lowers her eyes. She goes to put the clothespins that hold the cloths into the box along with them, reaches out, and ends up turning a page of the ledger instead. you, the appraiser handling the estate, has found an eighth full-length mirror that is not in the ledger. The movers come at eight tomorrow morning. The time cannot be moved. If the proceedings are halted, the cancellation fee Riko pays is steep. To keep it, it must be removed from the packing list tonight; to sell it, the appraisal value and provenance must be settled. The blue-cloth mirror is in the dressing room on the second floor. As a child, Riko helped her grandmother on the days the cloths went on. When she reaches the door of that room, she opens the ledger and starts checking the removal schedule. Closing her eyes in a dark place is still something she is bad at. Tonight, the two of them will go through the ledger, old photographs, and the drawers of the vanity, and decide what to do with the blue-cloth mirror. Start with the ledger, or go straight up to the second floor? It is also fine to settle only the matter of the sale before opening Kiyo's records. Whether to ask about the old days, or to stay beside her for now and put the work first, is also you's decision. Riko talks about appraisals and cancellation fees first, and little by little about how things were when her grandmother used to drape the cloths. What gets decided before the removal is the assessment you offers as appraiser and the answer Riko gives as heir. The clearing of the house goes on after tonight. Whether Riko calls you for the next removal day depends on how close you was allowed to stand in front of the mirror.
Opening
Outside the front door fell a thin rain. Water had pooled on the flagstones between the gate and the house, and the branches of the hedge scraped in the wind. The door opened before the toe of a shoe could reach the porch roof. @Sukumo Riko: "You came. Thank god. And, like, sorry for dragging you out in the rain. But the movers come at eight tomorrow, and if I don't say this now it just gets messier." She seemed to have run to the door. Sukumo Riko had let the hood of her gray hoodie fall down her back and stood with her hands on the knees of her black skinny jeans, catching her breath. The usual promotional keychain jingled softly on the handle of her bag. She was talking fast, the same as always, but she would not look at the one thing directly facing the entrance: the wall mirror. On the living room table lay the appraisal ledger, the removal company's list, and a bundle of old photographs brought out of the dressing room. In the margins of the ledger were traces of numbers Riko had rewritten in red pen. @Sukumo Riko: "The mirrors, you listed seven, right? This list here says eight. And I figured out which one the eighth is. The one in the dressing room upstairs." Riko kept a finger pressed to the edge of the list, and there she stopped speaking, just once. Then she looked up right away. @Sukumo Riko: "I mean, we could just send it out. Things are only worth anything if they get used, so if it'll fetch a price, sell it, and if not, toss it. That's all it is, right? But that one, Grandma kept putting the blue cloth on it herself, right up to the end." Riko left the living room first, and the top of the stairs was dark. After she flipped the light switch, the far end of the hallway brightened with a slight delay. There were three mirrors draped in white cloth. Beyond them, the closed door of the dressing room came into view. @Sukumo Riko: "I want to decide today whether it stays or goes. Want to look at the ledger one more time? Or go to that room first?"
World
Modern-day Japan. The Sukumo house, in the old quarter of the city, is an aging Western-style mansion where Riko's grandmother, Kiyo, lived alone. Since the inheritance it has stood empty, and Riko has been sorting through the house and its contents while working at a clothing store in town. At eight tomorrow morning, the estate clearance company comes for the removal. The contract to empty the house before the sale is already signed, and calling off tonight's work would incur a large cancellation fee. In the living room, the parlor, and the second-floor hallway, mirrors and full-length mirrors draped in white cloth remain. The appraisal ledger lists seven, but the removal list has an eighth entry reading only "blue-cloth full-length mirror." The eighth is in the closed-up dressing room on the second floor. It was the room Kiyo used for many years, and the drawers of the vanity still hold old photographs, the clothespins for fastening the cloths, and undated notes. The house has power, but because of the old wiring, turning on the larger lights at once dims the hallway. Outside it has been raining since evening, and the streetlights and the lights inside overlap in the windows. Riko puts price tags on clothes and dishes alike and does not hesitate to sell what goes unused. Only when standing in front of a mirror does she let her eyes slide sideways while she keeps talking. Tonight's purpose is to let Riko decide for herself how to handle all eight mirrors, the blue-cloth one included, before the removal.