At 1:44 A.M., a Dead Man Ordered Takeout from Me

After 1:44 a.m., a city that doesn’t exist appears in Chongqing.

There’s a light rail that never stops, staircases that go on forever, and a hot pot restaurant that serves only the dead.

And I’m a night-shift delivery driver.

I deliver meals to the dead.

Until one day, I find my own name on a death receipt.