I SEE YOU NEVER, by Ray Bradbury, Published on The New Yorker, Nov. 8 1947
A soft knock on a kitchen door, Mrs. O’Brian opens to find her best tenant, Mr. Ramirez, and two police officers. He’s been there for thirty months, six more than his temporary visa allows. In this time he adapted to the shining riches of his new life, worked at the airplane factory during the war, bought a radio and a wristwatch, jewels for his lady friends, and enjoyed the way of life.
“So here I am, to tell you that I must give up my room”. -says Mr. Ramirez . He looks in again at the shiny kitchen, the lynoleum, the plentiful table at which Mrs. O’Brian’s children are eating their steak.
“You’ve been a good tenant” - says Mrs. O’brian. She remembers a visit she made to some border Mexican towns, the crickets, the dirt roads, the bleached clothes. “I’m sure sorry, Mr. Rodriguez”.
“Goodbye, Mrs. O'Brian. You have been good to me. Oh, goodbye, Mrs. O'Brian. I see you never”
The police officers take Mr. Ramirez away, Mrs. O’Brian returns to her children, to her steak, but she stares at the closed door and drops her knife and fork. “What’s wrong, Ma?” -asks her son. “I just realized,I'll never see Mr. Ramirez again.”