Unfortunately, the hookup was horrible. Although he seemed normal at first, he was high on something, and his dick wasn’t getting hard.

A man on drugs with a limp dick can be very scary. He tried and cursed, then began to blame her, insisting he was soft because he wasn’t a homo.

And then he wanted her to top him. And then he wanted her to speak Chinese.

And then he pulled her hair and spat on her.

But at least he didn’t reinjure her ribs. And thank goodness, he wasn’t able to cum. Sometimes guys like this got crazy with trans girls after they came.

And, yes, thank goodness, he paid.

Katrina started the walk back to Evan’s. As she watched the cars go by, she tried to feel grateful. But gratitude was difficult. Yes, she had money for now, but she wasn’t stupid. Her ribs weren’t healing, and her hormones would run out in two weeks, a month if she stretched them.

If she stepped onto that road, what would be different? And why was she fighting, anyway? She just had sucked someone for money, after fucking someone else for rent. What made her so special that she should live?

But then, Katrina smelled food.

First, she smelled the sweet, almost citrusy smell of roast duck. Then the heavier warmth of BBQ pork. Chilis from a hot pot. Oyster sauce being stir-fried into a wok of raised noodles. Salted eggs in rice porridge, fried turnip cakes with diced leeks, ginger and green onion lo mein.

The many smells from the kitchens of all the small, bustling restaurants along the boulevard made her stomach growl, her mouth salivate.

She may not have had a reason to live. But here were plenty of wonderful reasons to eat.

Half an hour later, Katrina was sitting at a table with a bowl of pork belly noodle soup. The skin crackled on the outside of the pork, while the flesh oozed with fatty juices within. The noodles had the perfect bite, and the broth was glistening with the flavor of long-cooked bones.

A server came to check her teapot. Around her, the staff was serving, bussing, chopping, sweeping. A waiter used some leftover tea to wipe off a greasy table.

No stares, no judgment. No father yelling. She was eating a meal, and no one was mad or disappointed.

Katrina ate another wonton, then more pork belly. The customers at the other tables didn’t even notice her. Someone laughed at someone else’s joke. Someone was complaining that his grandson was not studying hard enough.

She felt strange. No, not strange.

Better.

When was the last time that she had felt better? She had food in her belly, money in her purse …

Her purse.