On a winter's night, in the blind massage parlor by Anqi Cao (she/her)

I  pushed through the iron gate, the creak echoing off the stairwell's worn walls like a familiar greeting. Ahead, silhouettes of a man and a woman were inching down the stairs, leaning on each other more than the shaky handrail. The hallway's dim light seemed to soak into the man’s weathered skin, giving him a twilight glow.

I recognized the man—Old Gao, and next to him, Fangfang, her arm hooked around his. Despite Fangfang looking three times as big as Old Gao, there was something almost childlike in her dependence on him.

They both waited in place, as I slipped past with a murmured "Excuse me," barely louder than the shuffle of my feet. ...click to READ MORE