With the last piece of General Tso's chicken staring at him, Norman pushes around tiny remnants of broccoli florets to form a circle around the now trapped, breaded meat. There, Norman thinks, it's not lonely now.

This was the second time he had eaten from Chong's Garden this week, but tonight was different; they hadn't forgotten to give him a fortune cookie.

He fumbles with his thick fingers and cracks open the orange vessel, which he pops into his mouth - one, two. The stale taste reminded him of cold mornings as a teenage, waiting for the bus while his peers raced down the street to school in more fashionable ways.

He straightens out the paper and reads, 'In order to discover who you are, first learn who everybody else is. You're what's left.'

He flips it over to the back and learns how to say 'Rain.' In the next moment, he sneezes and the last piece of chicken rolls off the plate and onto his new khakis.