One time someone offered to cook for me at his friend's place. I said yes, of course; she, the friend, had great style, and I thought it would be fun for Homebodies. He made something Thai, I forgot what, but I have pics of all the bowls of ingredients: limes, hot peppers, bamboo shoots, garlic. A mortar and pestle sat on the counter. Something weird happened over the exchange of a dried shrimp he offered me, like he wanted to teach me what it was, but I knew what dried shrimp was. Awkward. But why? What's happening? I loved the white counters, and the red curtains. We ate, and it was good, and when I left he was dancing with his tall shadow on the floor.