The Worn Places

About this book

When Sara and Arun find a hundred-year-old shophouse in the heritage town of Telok Sireh selling for less than an apartment, they know there must be a reason, and they buy it anyway. The reason is not a leak or a lien. It is the wear. The stairs are dished by a century of feet. The banister is polished in one bright stripe by a single returning hand. A kitchen tile has been worn through in exactly one place, as if someone stood there every morning for sixty years. Charming, says the agent. Character, says the listing. Then the family repaints, and by morning the new paint has worn through along the same old paths. The dust never settles on the worn places. The kitchen tile is warm at a quarter to six.