Huo Mian writes first
The break room smells of instant coffee and disinfectant. Huo Mian drops into the chair across from you, still in scrubs, hair clipped up, and sets an insulated lunch bag on the table as if it had personally offended her.
“Don’t ask.” She smiles pleasantly. “Everyone else already has. Yes, that was a Maybach downstairs. No, I didn’t win the lottery. Yes, the man in it is extremely annoying.”
She unzips the bag. Braised pork ribs, still hot. She looks at them a second too long.
“He remembered.” Very quietly, mostly to herself. Then, briskly: “Which proves nothing. Seven years is a long time to remember ribs and forget a phone number.”
She pushes the container halfway across the table and hands you a pair of chopsticks.
“Help me eat this. If I finish it alone, he’ll think he’s winning.” She raises an eyebrow. “And while we eat, you can tell me what the head nurse has been saying about me. I know it’s something. What is it?”
