ဆယ်. Reporting from Rangoon Part 1

This is a sample.
Please go to the Author page to inquire about status and options for publication of this piece or of the entire manuscript.

Duty Free

Dressed in faded denims, a drunk wandered past bottles wrapped in shining glittered paper for the connoisseurs of fine liquors. His shirt was stained and punctured with wear. Jeans stretched, they hung loosely around his buttocks and were frayed at the ankles. The drunk shuffled around the aisles; he parted his greasy black hair away from his eyes and stared along the display for the right whisky—Duty-free as Mecca for alcoholics, chain smokers, and parfumiers.

He turned the corner and saw a couple holding a bottle of Bailey’s. They, too, were weather-beaten and tanned as wind-dried hide. The three of them stared at each other for a second—a glance of embarrassment—before the woman slid the bottle back on the shelf and turned away. There was no trace of Johnny Walker, but the couple had turned back along the aisle to check it out all the same.

One bottle of Johnny Walker Red, one carton of Triple Fives for barter. That was the goal, and all of us needed it.

August 1988