Immigrants

The old woman approached the man spraying the vegetables.

"Do you know me?" she asked.

His smile was so radiant. It could only mean he knew her. But he shook his head. No.

The man moved to the next tray of vegetables. Water glistened on the cucumbers. The woman followed. She pulled the straw bag up on her shoulder and said, "You do know who I am, don't you?" The man sprayed the peppers and the carrots. Carrots looked unwell no matter how much you sprayed. He'd never eaten a carrot in his life. His smile made up for a lot of things. The woman said, "But I'm certain you know who I am. If you just think about it, it will come to you." The man had been a teacher in New Delhi, now this is what he did. His smile was the same on both continents. His English was too perfect, the British-inflected sounds so forlorn in the American wilderness. The woman gripped his arm. "I'm sure you know who I am. Please put your mind to it and it will come."

The man turned off the water. He smiled his brilliant smile, said, "I'm afraid I don't understand," and walked away. The woman watched his back, thought his smile was too bright to be real but still believed it was possible. "I will wait here," she said. "When you come back, I'm sure you will tell me who I am. Then I will be able to go home."