Lips move. Words are spoken. Gestures point to the board. I sense my own feelings. I have no idea what is going on. What I know is that I don’t want to be here.

Then the bowl sits. Steam rises from the noodles. Servers move round and round. Glasses clink onto the table. I finger the cool plastic, and the stomach says no.

I am outside of myself, staring in. What’s happening here, I want to say? Why are you there, slunk in your chair?