30“Kor, this came for you today.”
His sister Kum handed him another letter from America. Weng took it into his bedroom, closed the door, and crushed the letter into a ball before stuffing it into the brown canvas bag with the other crushed and unopened letters, all bearing the stamp of Iowa, USA.
He’d punched the wall till his knuckles bled the day Ping left. After that all life had drained out of him. He’d crawled through each day much the same as the days before. If not for his studies at the Poly, his work in the noodle factory, and his nights in Ah Lau’s coffee shop as Noodle Ting’s secretary, he would’ve gone mad. The work kept him busy even though at times he hardly knew what was said or remembered what he did or ate. His heart was a dark cavern where the wind howled every night.
