A short story by David Gerow
In a place like Shanghai or back home, the city’s still there at night. The windows light up and the streetlights come on. But when you’re in the countryside, like that village in Hunan, everything disappears. It’s actual night.
I was fifty-five and John was fifty-two when we moved to China. He’d signed a five-year contract with Moriska, Inc., electronics importers.Sign in to read more