Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 400

Joy pushed up against his insides, but he was shocked into silence when his eyes suddenly met those of a
woman, whose head was peeking into the tent in which Ming found himself enclosed. She was the color of
burnt earth, her flesh little, her skin blemished and scarred. Her hair was a thick, dirty black and her eyes,
her eyes were the rare color of amber, stricken and vivid. She was ugly, hideous even, but Ming looked at
her and saw nothing but pure beauty. She hesitated, then crouched in, crawling with one hand and knees,
with the other hand holding a clay bowl. She placed the bowl in front of Ming.
“Bhojan. Food .” She said.
Ming’s gaze did not lift from her as she made her way out of the tent.
Dazed, his thoughts stumbled upon each other. How had he arrived here? Had this strange woman dragged
him from what felt like the middle of nowhere? He laid still, his lips ajar and his pupils shifting, the same
thoughts shuffling through his head.
A wave of sanity finally fell over Ming, making him aware of his s