10
Manchester, 1998
We sit across from each other. The girl and me, eating cheese on toast. About as good as my cooking skills get.
My living room has two old armchairs, a TV and an electric fire that stinks when it first comes on. But the girl is in shock and needs warming up.
She wanted to go to the pigs. I told her it wasn’t an option. The only option is to sit here and wait.
So that’s what we do. The girl wrapped in a blanket, crunching on a piece of toast, trying not to burn her lips on molten cheese slices.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Yunjin,” she says.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“And where are your family?” I ask.
“I don’t have,” Yunjin says.
“No mum or dad? Brother or sister?”
Yunjin shakes her head. “No longer.”
I bite into a piece of toast and burn my lip. I sha
