The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Gary Shteyngart Reads Weike Wang

The New Yorker: Fiction

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The Man's a Potter, the Woman's

The woman liked how easily the man handled everything. While he was not handsome, he had a friendly face in rosy cheeks. The word wholesome came to mind. He was someone who could have just stepped out of a norm of rock-well painting. Their first official date had been on Skype. It had consisted of each of them drinking a bottle of wine and watching the same movie on their respective laptops. They ended up watching house of flying daggers with English subtitles. As they got progressively tips here, the man asked the woman if the subtitles were all correct. You would know the glaze if you saw it, he said once the movie was over and the wine had been drunk

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