JOSH
The restaurant was boisterous and crowded, as waiters rushed around with trays of bamboo steamers piled on top of each other, carrying assortments of dumplings. We were seated at a small table off to the back. I studied the pictures on the menu, as Gwen split her wooden chopsticks apart and rubbed them together.
“I don’t eat meat,” she said nonchalantly, as she scanned the paper menu, placing check marks next to the dumplings she wanted. “I try to keep my body as clean as possible for the healings. No alcohol, or nicotine either.” I peered over at her choices; mushroom, spinach, seaweed. I stuck my tongue out dramatically and scrunched up my nose as I checked off pork, shrimp, and lobster on mine.
“I was in rehab for six months. I need to have some bad habits,” I suddenly found mys
