My Date With A Young Chinese Migrant Worker

I sat on the bed, he turned on the TV, and we just sat there, watching television. I was beginning to find the whole experience utterly surreal. My few stabs at conversation were not returned. Before long he got up, left the room and ran a few chores: collected a sheet that was out to dry, washed his hair, talked to his brother next door, and cleared out his nose–sans tissue–a few times in the dustbin by my feet.