Contributor: Taylor Dibbert
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String hoppers, chili paste, dahl, gravy, chicken, a fried egg, greens, an array of curries, a bit of arrack and copy of Boomerang by Michael Lewis. If Lewis is not doing the trick I will switch to fiction; I have been meaning to get to Sons and Lovers for months. Maybe tonight will be the night. Why would my phone be ringing? Nobody ever calls me after 9PM. (Nobody ever calls me before 9PM either).
“Hello. Is this Siva?”
“No, this is not Siva.”
“Okay, thanks.”
My phone is ringing again.
“Hello, Siva…”
“Sorry, I am still not Siva. You have the wrong number. This is Mr. Mark.”
“Are you Sri Lankan?”
“Do I sound like I’m Sri Lankan?”
“No.”
“You would be correct.”
“Well, are you alone then?”
“Yes. I’m alone.”
“What do you do for fun? Aren’t you lonely?”
“I read. I write. I walk. But, most of...
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Author:
Taylor Dibbert
