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The Uninvited

The Uninvited

The Uninvited

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for myself. <strong>The</strong> others had grinned.Sunny Chen’s movements were jerky andpuppet-like. I couldn’t tell his age. Midfortiesperhaps. He was diminutive, withmuch darker skin than Martin Yeh(Monsoon River) and a hectic look. <strong>The</strong>two men conversed briefly: I missed mostof what they said, but their body languagetold me there was respect between them.Sunny Chen and I shook hands. We beganin Chinese, but I found myself struggling,so after two and a half sentences weswitched.‘You know, my father worked here,until he retired. My grandfather too, andfour uncles. Jenwai was a good company.Moral. Trustworthy.’ Sunny Chen wipedhis brow, which bore a sheen of sweat.

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