Small Stone for Sunday, Jan. 8, 2012
I spent half my salary to not work there anymore. This is my receipt: It's Sunday and I want Chinese, but my companion is asleep, so I doze in a chair by the window, letting the sunshine cause orange light to bloom behind my eyelids, parsing the difference among craving szechuan, imagining how szechuan tastes and tasting szechuan. The difference in the belly set aside, the difference in the mouth and mind are slight.