The coffee shop below her apartment was empty, except for a table of men drinking beer and smoking. One of them leered at her when she walked past.

She could see the glow of light from the pasar malam, the night bazaar selling clothes in five-ringgit bundles, fake designer watches, shoes, leather jackets and the herbal preparations popular with men who believed in their power to make erections last. Leech oil, sea cucumber potions, and tinctures made from anything else in nature that resembled a penis. She had a client who was insistent on rubbing on such oils during sex. It was a hindrance to putting on a condom as the experience often resulted in an oily, sticky black mess. But the erection always lasted, and the client would eventually have to pay for two extra hours.

She loved nights like this. The quiet streets gave her time to contemplate, think about things. She passed an alleyway and saw her friend Nita decked out in an all-black number.

“Cantiknya baju.”

Nita smiled and blew a kiss, pushing out her new breasts.

“Tapi so slow tonight lah.”

Marina waved back and walked on. Her long hair blew across her face as she stood on the traffic intersection. The shop across the road served the best nasi kandar in town—rice with a selection of meat curries, a speciality from northern Malaysia. Marina had to watch her weight, as did all the others. She often had fruit for dinner, two cups of instant coffee mix for breakfast, and takeaway noodles or a roti with some dhal and curry for lunch. So she felt that she deserved a full meal that night, a whole plate of rice with hearty beef in thick brown sauce, curried crab, dollops of cabbage in turmeric and mustard seed and a crunchy green chilli.

Nasi Kandar Muhammad Yasin had been around for decades and was open 24 hours. People came from all over the city to eat there and people who sat at the tables were from all classes of KL society.

There were three others in front of her. A lady with two children, one fussing while the other, a pudgy boy with round spectacles, kept adding dishes to his already heaped plate. The boy then carried the precious plate with two hands to the table where his sullen mother and fretting sister sat. As Marina took her plate into the air-conditioned section of the restaurant, she spotted two policemen seated in a corner. She didn’t like cops and she avoided their gaze. They were sipping tea and the one whose back faced her turned around and looked at her. Marina headed towards an empty table close to the washroom. She sat facing the wall and started tucking in.