The Print

You hold the washi up in front of the work light. The ink is still wet. Where the vermilion met the black, the edge has gone soft and gray.

In the middle of the rings the ink has left a bare patch the size of a postage stamp, shaped like letters. From this side they run backward. You turn the sheet and look through the back, and they read THAW.

If you wrote down BACKWARD, there is a line under the word, small, in the hand from the freezer door: I wish you'd just warm it.

You say the word out loud. Then you say it again.

You lay your thumb flat over the letters and hold it there. The paper dries first where it is warm. When you lift your thumb there is a pale round patch in the ink.