One of my favourites from The Epigram Books Collection of Best New Singaporean Short Stories: Vol 1.
Dinner's been upset across the kitchen floor; she flipped the casserole and then the roast chicken. Obviously this doesn't even make her feel better, because she's still barking. I'm so hungry I actually make a ludicrous lunge to save the chicken, groaning in spite of myself when it hits the floor. At work they would ask me, what happened to your face, these bruises, and I'd say, football scuffle at the bar, or, jujitsu training, injecting elements of masculinity to salve my pride. Every time she hits me, I wish I were a woman too, so I could conceivably hit back. As it is she comes towards me now, and I grab her right wrist, but she strikes me with the other. I don't believe you love me, I say, and walk away. She doesn't follow. I rev the car up and drive out, an aimless, defeated sort of drive, idle contemplations of car crashes and emergency rooms, idle, because they re...