Fiction: Group 3
Megan Lee
Harrow International School Hong Kong, Stranger, Ella - 12, Fiction: Group 3
egan looked out through the glass of the shop, the hot and moist steam calming her.
The glass felt cold against her skin, and she looked out onto the empty road. The savoury aroma
filled her mind: chives, soya, chicken, and the most delicious broth. The kitchen; in particular
had a lot of sun coming through. She could feel the light’s attempt to puncture the window, and fill the
kitchen in warmth, but it was made in vain.
Her mind at rest, she turned around and held a delicate dumpling parcel in her fingers. With no filling
inside, it was basically a shell. She wasn’t very good at cooking yet, and decided to get someone who had
years of skill and dedication. She called for her dad, and he completed the dumpling for her. They then had
this moment of silence, and they glared at each other. “Father, what’s wrong?”
Her soprano voice cut through the air. He gave Megan a crooked smile and softly uttered
“Nothing. It’s just, your mother. She would’ve been so proud, Megan. You don’t have to do-“
“Yes. Yes I do.” She interrupted.
“This is what you made, father. No university degree will ever mean more to me than this. This may seem
like just a store, but it’s what I have, it’s what I love.”
Her father looked hurt for a second, then forced through a smile. “You’re just like your dad. So stubborn.”
Megan walked to the pavement of the Cotai Strip, and tried to give out pamphlets advertising the store.
Huge, towering hotels crowded her, each competing for the best reviews. She placed herself at the
crossroads of two hotel entrances. “It’s the home of Macau’s best dumplings! Customer satisfaction
guaranteed!” she called out, proud and brightly. The people gave her threatening glances, and they
quickened their pace as they passed her. They’re monsters, she thought. With their heavy briefcases, and
hotel lairs. She remembered what her dad told her, about the people changing. They no longer were patient
and warm, but rushed a lot. These people did not enjoy the simple things in life, but were agitated and
caught up within their jobs. The sun had gone to bed, and replaced with a lazy drizzle. Megan walked past
the skyscrapers and highways back to her comfortable and cosy home. She was annoyed, and she went for
an afternoon nap to ease her frustration.
30 years earlier, before Megan was born:
“Greetings, greetings, come in! There’s space!” Megan’s mother called, ushering the guests into the shop.
They were extremely eager, as if it was a black Friday sale. Megan’s father began cooking the dumplings as
best as he could. The store was packed with people and laughter. The bicycle delivering the fish arrived, and
was sent to the kitchen. It was fresh from nearby waters, and he started to prepare the local delicacy.
“Susan, tell the guests that dinner may take a bit longer. There’s so many tonight!” he called out. His wife
agreed and told the patient people. They nodded, as if they were obedient dogs.
“They are fine, John. There is time.” she replied. Dinner was served to the many excited faces. There were
spring rolls, choy sum, stir-fries, chicken noodles, and their speciality: steamed dumplings. It was a hearty
meal to be remembered. The comments included “divine” and “food fit for a king”, and John Lee felt the
pride coming through. His shop was the most famous in Macau! After most of the customers had finished,
Susan and John lead them to the door. Outside, cascading hills of rich green shone brilliantly in the
moonlight. Crickets were chirping, singing a song of love. The everlasting sky continued as far as they could
see, clear as crystal. It was spectacular.
The people gave their thanks, and left in small cars and bikes. The couple smiled gently and stared out into
the pristine horizon.
M
