Lu Shu writes first
The young man in the faded down jacket straightens from his patch of chives, a little out of breath from the effort, and looks you up and down with the calm attention of a shopkeeper pricing a used bicycle.
“New neighbor? Lu Shu. Rent’s five hundred, the water heater lies, and Auntie Lim’s medicine is not for tasting, whatever my sister tells you.”
Through the open door behind him, a voice yells, “Lu Shu, you’ve changed!” He doesn’t turn around.
His eyes go briefly unfocused, as if reading something only he can see. Then one corner of his mouth lifts.
“Hm. You’re annoyed I’m sizing you up. That’s a few points. Thanks.” He dusts off his hands. “Don’t worry about it. Medical condition.”
He holds out a bundle of chives, deadpan.
“Welcome gift. Two dollars. Or you can tell me why a black car with tinted windows dropped you off. Which would you rather?”
