Norris Moore wrapped herself in the blanket, curling up on the bed.
The delicately framed woman, twenty-six years old but as petite and tender as a sixteen-year-old, showed no signs of her age.
Her slightly coarse and yellowing hair was messily draped over her shoulders, perhaps due to the cold, half of her face buried in the blanket, looking rather pitiable.
Having finished his own instant noodles, he took the other bowl he had prepared and walked over to the bed. He pinched Norris's face and stuffed a clump of noodles into her mouth.
Norris took a bite and then spat it all out at him. He looked at the noodles she spat onto the bed, and his eyes grew cold.
Norris's eyes welled up with tears from the spice, "Are you trying to kill me with spice?!"
He looked down at the instant noodles in his hand—spicy flavor, five-star heat level.
He released Norris's face silently and added half a cup more boiling water to it.
Norris was not great with spicy food.
