A gas explosion sends me into the novel I’d just been reading, with the packet of medicine I’d prepared for the male lead still in my hand. I toss it straight into the stove. The dictionary of a modern food streamer has no room for the words “drug him.” Later, my snack stall becomes famous throughout the city, but the male lead always shows up just as I’m packing up. He silently helps me carry the wooden table. “The food you make… tastes better than the medicine.”
