By Max Biringer

The big brown moth comes humming out of the jungle night and lands gracefully on Lan’s shoulder, furry little antennae bristling as a light wind blows past. He looks down on it with little interest, brushes it aside. It takes to the air, joining the multitudes swooping and diving around the flickering fluorescent light of the rest stop. A gecko darts out from behind a faded portrait of honorable comrade Phomvihan to snatch one up. Lan likes to watch the little lizards hunt. Here it’s always easy pickings.

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