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Chapter 25—Being
Dungi was sweating, the palms of his hands were wet. His vision was getting blurry. Tears were forming. He held it back; he had to hold it, they must not know. He looked at his wife and son who were still absorbed in the menu, oblivious to the change of mood in Dungi, oblivious to his problems to procure for his family beyond his means—a vice Dungi let them keep so he could reign King of the Hill.
He put the phone down slowly, and grabbed the menu to cover his face with it—of course, under the pretext of assessing choices for the most sumptuous lunch. As he glimpsed over its contents, Dungi just realized how exorbitant the prices were, as were the others he and his family had frequented for three-time-a-day meals: breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.
&nbs
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