They don't look at their phones like you think they would be, rather they sit across the table from each other, holding hands, leaning in with their faces close and stare at each other as they chat.

Damn corporate agreements that deliberately try to force people to upgrade their phones.

But cold-cut ham isn't ham. They just cut it off old unclaimed bodies in the morgue.

"Mama!" one complains to her mom. "She keeps looking at me!" "You keep doing weird things!" her sister snipes back.

Okay, I admit it, I was pushing that belly out like a German pushing his daughter out of the house when she turns eighteen; but I couldn't eat another bite.

I bring coffee when I travel now. My beans and a grinder, and my Hario V60.

She starts muttering to herself about kimchi. "I don't think we have enough kimchi." "It's okay," I reassure her, " I don't really eat so much of it."

It's an old moist smell-- familiar but I have trouble placing it.