“Do you really have to go?”
The man paused but said nothing.
He leaned back in his chair, chewing and swallowing with effort. Then he set the half a steamed bun in his hand back on the table.
Looking at the two and a half buns left on the plate, he sighed. “How many times have I told you? Don't steam just three buns. It's bad luck.”
Behind him, the woman turned her head to one side and fell silent.
The man braced both hands on the table, stood up, and headed outside.
When he reached the doorway, he stopped, but did not turn around.
Beside his ear, he seemed to hear the woman's steady breathing.
At last, as if he had made up his mind, the man flung the door open.
Outside, all was pitch-black...
Come on, come on, come on