Too many unfamiliar faces gather in intimate rooms, using the language I’m least proficient in—body language. When aunties ask me questions, I avert my eyes as I mumble, but I find nowhere to escape in the confined space. I wonder why they call it small talk if it looms over you, big and threatening. But then another boy offers me a game controller. Yes, this language I can speak. Over the escalating din of conversation, I hear only the click-clacking of my controller, conversing with the boy beside me. Without words or eye contact, I’m making a lifelong friend.
Ian Li (he/him) is a neurodivergent emerging writer from Toronto, and a former financial economist. Find his writing at Radon Journal, Flame Tree Press, and ian-li.com. Bluesky: @ianli