The Dredger's Warning

@ba_thu_mai

The river at night smells of diesel and lemongrass. Bà Thu's noodle boat rocks gently against its moorings, one oil lamp swinging above the counter as she scrapes the day's grease from her old iron pot. She doesn't look up when your sampan bumps the hull. "You have your uncle's chin," she says flatly, and sets the pot down. "Sit. Or don't."