The Representative of Nathaniel T Bliss

Madame Ito felt the warmth of tears on her cheek, as she stood in the centre of what had previously been her silk shop, and surveyed the emptiness.
The men in the brown coveralls had been disrespectfully noisy. Whistling through their teeth, leaving deep scratchmarks as they dragged display cabinets across the wooden floor. They marched to and fro, carrying armfuls of silk rolls to the green van parked at the kerbside, door flung open, like arms inviting in all her precious belongings.Sometimes a roll would slip through their hands and tumble to the floor, and the clumsy man would kick it all the way to the door, across the sidewalk, and into the road. Madame Ito, in a white tunic top and wide black trousers, stood silent witness as they unscrewed shelves from the walls, leaving dark ghosts of their presence, and deep holes spewing out brick dust, dropping a crumble along the skirting boards. Even the paper light shades had gone, the lightbulbs sparkled too bright, casting angry impotent stars in the ceiling.
The Representative of Nathaniel T Bliss stood at the doorway with a clipboard, checking over his glasses as objects passed him on their way to the van, pushing the glasses up his nose and making a careful note, in tight black handwriting, on the inventory sheet.
Having emptied the shop, the men went into her private rooms above, banging their boots up the stairs, across the floorboards, turning out drawers onto the bed and going through her intimate belongings with perverted glee, selecting all the Japanese artifacts. Still Madame Ito stood quietly and endured their mocking, until she saw one go by with a wooden box tucked under his arm. She moved forward,
"Not that." The man, surprised by the change from passive statue to active woman, looked quickly to The Representative for confirmation. "It is a present for my husband." The Representative flicked through his inventory list.
"There are no exemptions Madame Ito. All goods and chattels deemed saleable or collectables." He quoted from the contract.
"This is for my husband. A gift from a wife to her returning spouse. He has been away many months."
"And won't be getting back in." The second man pushed around the first, carrying a framed, narrow landscape of Mount Fuji. He made the comment out the corner of his mouth, loud enough for her to hear, and the two labourers laughed, though the first still waited for a descion from the doorway.  
"No exemptions." The Representative jerked his head towards the van, and with a smirk the man carried away the music box. Crossing to her, The Representative offered the clipboard to sign away all her memories, all that gave her status, and a living. He pulled from an inside pocket an envelope of notes, the agreed fee. She took it quietly.
"Don't you want to check it?" She shook her head.
He shrugged, knowing she was lucky to find anyone to buy out her bankrupt shop. He also knew the money would do her no good in the short term, if internment of foreign aliens went ahead, without consideration of their allegiance, of where they considered home, of what sense of belonging they had.  
Out of habit, his arm moved to tip his hat in leaving, but suddenly he felt no need to offer her this moment of respect, so just turned and walked out the shop, leaving the door open, so she heard the van door slam shut and the engine start, before the vehicle drew away.
Madame Ito slowly walked across the scuffed floorboards and pushed the door closed, feeling the resistance as it clicked shut, before dropping the latch. Then she turned and surveyed the emptiness and felt the warmth of tears on her cheek.

  (For Part One see 'Madigan')