"It was dinner time in Singapore. Across the Formica table at Maxwell Food Centre I watched my father wrestle a laksa-slicked noodle around his chopsticks. He struggled. The tremors in his hands had gotten worse since the last time I saw him almost a year before. I discreetly slid him a fork and pretended I didn't notice the DayGlo-orange splatters on his shirt. It wasn’t long before beads of sweat collected on his brows—it was way too spicy."
