“Som,” Candy said, exhaling smoke. “You have the fire. Don’t stay in the chorus forever. Save your money. Get the surgery if you want, or don’t. But build a life , not just a performance.”
The sun bled orange and purple over the Chao Phraya River, but on Pattaya’s Walking Street, the day didn’t truly begin until the neon flickered to life. For twenty-two-year-born Som, whose identity card still read “Mr. Anan,” the night was not an end but a beginning.
As the first fishing boats puttered out to sea, Som whispered to the dawn: “One more year. Then I’ll be free.”
