They sat together on the floor of the station, eating noodles from paper bowls. Bella told him of the town and its people and the places she had been, while Guillard listened impatiently, slurping at his food. He had already made his way through two oranges and a moon cake and an egg that had been steeped in tea, and the rinds from the fruit lay strewn about his person, like so many fallen leaves. As though he himself were deciduous in nature.

Across the aisle, several old men squatted flat-soled in sandals, with their elbows on their knees and their forearms turned out, in what appeared to be a posture of either offering or defeat.