Ty says with a Marlboro hanging out of the corner of his mouth and a box of takeout in his hands. I'm sitting across from him at this tiny, little bistro set that's so rusty I can't even tell what it might've looked like before. Ty says it came with the apartment and that it was this way when he moved in. He says it was the only thing he didn't throw away when he cleaned. “I mean the beginning-beginning. Start when you were born.” “You really want to go back that far?” I ask with a sigh. Ty is right. This curry is amazing. It tastes like a hundred countries and a thousand plants and deserts and bazaars and all sorts of other strange, wonderful things. He's also right about the meat. I don't know what it is, and I don't want to know. It better not be cat. I take a sip of my beer and grab the cigarette from Ty's mouth. “Fine, but first, I want to know what your chance is. This is my last one, so if I'm going to trade it for yours, I want to know what I'm getting.”
