fragment:

"i knew your father," says the man. he approaches me with a somewhat awkward look on his face, as though he is uncertain of himself. when he is close enough, he shirks some of that awkwardness off, and appraises me with a clumsy, slanted grin. "yes, you certainly are your father's boy."

i smile faintly. for some reason, i am unafraid of the man, even though, by objective standards, he looks strange and "off." he is gangly, and asian, though i have a hard time telling whether he is japanese or chinese or korean. there is a certain kind of face that resembles a monkey, with somewhat wide eyes and pouty long lips curved into a perpetual smile, that can overlap different races, and he has that face. perhaps it is that face that allows me to trust him. there is something comical in the eyes or the lips, something unabashedly open. "how did you know him?" i ask.

he smiles suddenly, and his teeth are alternating silver and dirty yellow. his eyes look down, folding crow's feet at the temples. "we used to work at the silk-screen factory together," he says, "back in our bachelor days. back when i first came here." for a moment, he seems lost in a memory. then, he catches himself, looking at me with a smile that could almost be interpreted as sneaky...