•
“Excuse me,” a voice, clear as a bell and surprisingly unruffled, chimed from within the depths. “Are you going to help, or just admire my technique?” I froze, half-in, half-out of the dumpster, looking like a startled raccoon caught mid-raid. And then I saw her. She was perched precariously on a stack of flattened…
•
How we met. The Dumpling Destiny: A Chinatown Love Story The air in Chinatown that night was a symphony of sizzling woks, distant karaoke, and the faint, sweet scent of lychee. For me, however, it was primarily the aroma of desperation. Not my own, mind you, but the desperation of a truly magnificent, albeit…