Ever have one of those moments when you’re on the can trying to pass the last day’s kimchi as discretely as possible because you live in a small apartment where sounds carry, you hear your host father’s voice getting louder, and you know that he’s going to open the door but you are helpless to stop it?
And then afterwards when you come out to mime that, really, one should knock on bathroom doors when the light is on inside, he says first “I am sorry” then “Hweh? Seng, seng. Hweh,” while gesturing at you with an aluminum bowl in which a lone fish stares one-eyed with its tail slightly over the side, still intact but not for long. No thank you, I ate too much at the Indian restaurant and don’t need any raw fish at the moment.