One day, after my father's third-year memorial service had finally settled down, a flashy gal who claimed to be one of his students appeared. My father was originally a high school teacher, and she said she was one of his students from that time. I invited the gal into our home to offer incense and share memories of my father. The stories she told revealed aspects of my father that I, as a youth, could never have known. She said she wanted to repay her debt of gratitude to me from back then…
