A long clamorous silence invaded both of us while eating our dinner. I only can hear the sound of fork and spoon clattering together. The sound of the plate run by a knife was overly rackety. However, I didn't flinch or move more of my muscle while watching my food underneath. I was busy minding my own world, having my own thoughts, when someone faked a cough.

"Do you like my cooking?" I heard him ask. His voice is low and somehow steady, as if he's careful not to say anything that's up against my will. I shrug my shoulders and then continue to chew slightly. The food is not...