Now she shook her impish head and dropped the garbage into the trash bin. As the toilet paper fluttered from her fingertips, Viet noticed her wedding ring glinting in the sun. The sight of it jolted him. She hadn’t worn it for years. As soon as she started on the assembly line she had declared, “It’s impractical to wear in a place like that.” Viet poured himself a cup of coffee.

She said, “Look, you dripped,” pointed to the lone drop of coffee, and attacked it with a sponge. He watched her coasting from appliance to appliance wiping all available surfaces. Huong buzzed around the kitchen from toaster to blender to microwave. “I hate messiness.” She scrunched up her face, causing her button nose to twitch like a kitten. “It’s disgusting.”

Meanwhile, Viet was following the diamond as it glided through the air. Huong’s hummingbird reflexes led him to see tracers. He blinked, gulped down the rest of his coffee, and once he gained his lucidity asked, “Why are you wearing it?” He caught hold of her left hand and squeezed it. For a moment, they both looked down at the ring before she slipped out of his reach.

“Why not? It’s pretty, don’t you think?” She talked into her shoulder while walking away.

Viet didn’t understand it. His wife was far too practical a creature to wear a diamond ring while assembling circuit boards. He heard his daughters stumbling awake. A deep voice from a morning talk show crackled from the bedroom radio. The old apartment pipes grumbled and then the showerhead roared. A brief bickering session between the sisters was just as quickly followed by a tide of giggles. He began packing the girls their bag lunches.

Even after everyone was gone and he was left alone in the stillness of the apartment, the ring continued to preoccupy him. Most men would be happy their wives wore their wedding rings. But why had Huong suddenly cut her hair and now this?

Viet tried to push it aside. He had more important things to worry about. He went to grab the day’s paper from the doorstep. Outside, the sky was defeated, the color of a trapped sun unable to break through. It was so cold, the usual loiterers on his front step found refuge indoors. Across the street, a gang of boys whizzed by on bicycles. Dark hoods covered their faces and they reminded Viet of a stampede of antelopes on the savannah. He liked the sight of their wild freedom on the barren streets.

At the kitchen table, he spread out the paper, poured himself another cup of coffee, and uncapped his red pen. Hopefully, today’s classifieds would include new listings he was qualified for.

He was flipping to the Job Opportunities section, when his eyes glanced over a section called the Personals where people were seeking people. Blue eyes, slim figure, seeking single man for dating / Honest man 41 years young seeking Honest woman with matrimony as objective. There were all sorts of requests and preferences but what struck Viet were the disproportionate ads requesting Asian women in particular. Wealthy mature man seeking young Asian lovely for companionship and travel/ Swinging couple curious for Oriental affection / Modeling opportunity for hot geisha babes.