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Scenes from short stories I'll never write
1. A boy and girl, both teenagers, both born and raised in Chinatown. They skipped school and are spending the morning at the outdoor basketball court. "Take off your shirt and put your left hand behind your back," she commanded when they got to the court. He obeyed. She handed him the basketball and he began to shoot with his left arm behind his back. She fetched the ball every time, playing it cool while he watched her run for the ball and stealing hopeful glances while he concentrated on the hoop. His hairless torso gave off an otherworldly glow in the early morning light. 2. A girl is getting dumped by the guy she's seeing. She slowly stirs her bowl of noodle soup with a spoon while he explains that he has too many conflicting feelings in his head. Her eyes remain fixed on the small spheres of duck fat floating at the soup's surface. He touches her wrist and apologizes once more, but she doesn't feel or hear anything at all. The duck gives off an oily glint as it reflects the fluorescent lights overhead, flipping and capsizing beneath a bed of slimy yellow noodles while her heart and pride sink to her stomach. 3. Heartbroken and out of shape, I accidentally walk in on a local taichi class at a YMCA I just so happened to be passing through. After a mixup of some sort, I reluctantly decide to pick it up. Through perseverance and unexplained natural talent, I become a master. I join a world-famous traveling taichi troupe, and all of the boys who ever broke my heart regretted it and missed me and cried into their pillows at night. At the end of the story, I am cackling hysterically getting tickled by the love of my life atop a pile of his boxer briefs, wearing a gold ring on my pinky finger. We are getting married for the tax benefits and he is taking my last name.
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