Take the dinner

You open the front door, wallet in hand, to find a young woman standing on your doorstep with a large paper bag emitting fragrant aromas of lemongrass and basil.

"Hi there! Thai Palace delivery," she says with a bright smile. Her name tag reads 'Lin'. She can't be more than twenty-two or twenty-three, with glossy black hair pulled into a high ponytail and delicate features that speak to her East Asian heritage. She wears the restaurant's simple uniform of black pants and a green polo shirt.

"That'll be forty-two fifty," Lin says, consulting the receipt attached to the bag. Her accent is slight but noticeable, her English nearly perfect but with subtle inflections that suggest she wasn't born here.

As you count out bills from your wallet, you find yourself studying her features with newfound interest. Her high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and the gentle curve of her lips create a harmony of features you've always found attractive. You realize you're staring a moment too long when she tilts her head questioningly.

"Sorry," you mutter, handing over the cash. "Long day."

"No problem," Lin replies with a professional smile, counting your change. "Lots of orders tonight. Everyone too tired to cook on Saturday, right?"

The brief interaction sparks something in your mind. You've always had an appreciation for Asian women—their features, their graceful movements. It's something you rarely articulated aloud but acknowledged privately to yourself over the years. The thought connects immediately to the weight of the coin in your pocket.

Lin hands you the bag of food and your change. "Enjoy your meal!"

"Thanks," you say, your mind already elsewhere as you close the door.

Walking back to the living room, the idea takes firmer shape. Sarah's face on the coin. A simple wish. You could change her heritage, her facial features, her entire ethnic appearance. The power to transform her into someone with the physical characteristics you've privately admired for years.

Sarah looks up as you enter, her nineteen-year-old face—still recognizably herself, still fundamentally English in heritage—brightening at the sight of food.

"Finally! I'm absolutely starving," she says, rising to help you unpack the containers onto the coffee table. "It smells amazing."

You watch her movements, imagining how she might look with subtle changes to her features—higher cheekbones perhaps, different eye shape, silkier hair with a different texture. The coin burns with potential in your pocket.

"Everything okay?" Sarah asks, noticing your distraction. "You look like you're a million miles away."

"Just thinking," you reply, setting out the containers of Pad Thai and green curry. You don't elaborate on what those thoughts entail—that you're contemplating changing her ethnicity entirely, transforming the fundamental visual identity she's carried her entire life.