New Year toasts in the hall. The pantry light is off.

【Fictional adult story. All adults.】 New Year dinner through a wood door. She kills the pantry lamp. A stripe of hall light remains. She is six years older. Wine, perfume, kitchen smoke. My hand on her waist. Don’t make a sound. He’s still toasting. We stand. Face in my chest, she bites her own knuckle. After, she fixes the qipao and goes back to pouring. I stay in the dark a long time before