Jason Weiser

Well, I know you're not here to rob us, the young man said, as he put the candle into the fire and then gestured to the kitchen.

Notice anything about that kitchen?

The wanderer squinted and then, no.

Yeah, the young man in mourner's clothes said.

Pressing his face to the ground, the wanderer didn't see one.

The kitchen was completely ant free.

That was amazing.

That's one way of thinking about it.

The young man pulled the wick back from the flame.

The young man pulled the candle back from the flame.

Another way was that they couldn't afford even a crumb for the ants, let alone themselves.

They were starving.

There definitely wasn't enough rice, but they had just been getting by on a little bean porridge, with the lion's share going to their aged father.

The sister was not a nun, but instead she had been cutting off a strand of her glorious hair each day to sell for beans.

Now, though, that was all gone.

Oh, got it, so she's not a nun, and the father is weeping because... The traveler started and then stopped.

Oh, he actually didn't get it.

My father's mind isn't what it was.

We can tell him all day that she's not a nun, but a few minutes later, it's like he's seen her head for the first time, and he breaks into tears anew.

So I sing, and she dances, and it helps.