City of Shared Stories Kuala Lumpur

Nora was in the kitchen and didn't realise her son Din was back from school until she heard his voice from just outside. "Is that all you got, Megatron?" he asked. And then a different boy's voice replied, "Come here, you little cretin!"

"Maaak!" he called, coming in with his heavy school bag, a bundle of sweaty energy. "I brought home a friend."

"Who?"

"Lim."

A Chinese boy. Oh. Lim. Chinese. That was entirely logical, of course. There were many Chinese named Lim. But when Din had mentioned him a few times, she somehow assumed it was short for Salim, the way she would refer to her nephew Atan as Tan.

"Just in time for lunch, Lim," she said, and smiled. Everything was laid out; she just needed to put an extra place. Lim smiled back broadly.

"You want a piece of me, Megatron?" Din shouted.

"No, I want TWO!" Lim replied.

She didn't really want to ask what they were talking about; her baby boy was feverish in the next room, and she was worried sick.

After making sure they both washed their hands, she scooped rice from the rice-cooker onto their glass plates, which duly steamed up. She then served vegetables and the beef.

"You like daging masak kicap?" she asked Lim.

"Sorry aunty, I don't eat beef. I'll just take the veggie."

She was taken aback. "Don't be shy, there's enough for you."

"He doesn't eat beef, Mak."

"Don't be silly," she said. "They're not like us, they eat everything."

The baby wailed and she hurried out. Din scooped the beef from Lim's plate onto his own, and said, "It's just you and me, Megatron!"

And Lim said, "No, it's just ME, Prime!"