Carefully, he tasted the chicken. It was very good. He remembered that he had frozen a package of chicken a few weeks ago. He might have had soy sauce left from the last time he had brought Chinese food home from a restaurant. However, he knew that he had not bought any rice or fresh broccoli within recent memory—probably ever. Certainly he had never bought corn starch or furu; the latter, a condiment made from bean curd, was something he had hated since childhood.
He smiled, wondering if she had gone shopping. Dressed like that, no, she would have been arrested. She seemed to be a real person, except for her choice of attire.
Cautiously, he ate a little more. It was all very good, no matter how she had found the ingredients. He relaxed and enjoyed his dinner, trying not to think about t
