The Red Envelope: Billkin and PP Krit’s Take on a Love Story Beyond the Grave
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I slipped out of our perpetually freezing office before anyone else had a chance to extend a lunch invitation I would have to awkwardly decline. I like company. I do. It’s just that twice or three times a week I prefer to coddle in the serene chaos of my solitude.
While sneaking out and coiling up a million reasons why solo lunch should be a thing, I missed a plethora of umbrellas lining the entrance hall. Another light drizzle in the heart of Bangkok. What harm could come out of it?
Drenched from head to toe, my only excuse is that tropical rain has no mercy. An irresistible whiff of delicious comfort suddenly draws me to
the warmth behind a pale yellow noren, where I’m met by forest green signage that reads: ‘Sustainably sourced vegetables. Straight from farm
to table.’ Great, I think to myself, a pippin’ hot bowl of ramen to warm my cold, pruned fingers makes perfect poetic sense. No more than five minutes later, a large, earthy tamadon bowl arrives covering a meal that looks capable of transporting me to another dimension. The green signage catches my eye again. Where else would vegetables come from? I wonder…
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