There is no escape from the stinking giant. Not because she followed me and I'm pretty sure she can't see me on this street with the height of the buildings from where she is, but because this "eternal banquet" turns out to be a restaurant right in front of me.
It looks suspiciously not-Chinese, with the name written in English but using one of those fonts that no-one's dared use since the fifties. I would consider this refreshingly politically incorrect but the choice of colours is garish and horrible. What I can see of the décor through the huge plate glass window is no better. There's a piece of A4 blu-takked to the glass sheet that makes up the door that starts "Help Wanted" in the same font and goes down hill from there.
I'm supposed to take a job in a restaurant? Washing up? Me?
Surely there's some mistake.
If I keep walking and take the right path, she'll never know I didn't do it. I can disappear into the city and get on with my life.
Except I have no idea what my life is.
It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue, like I know the shape of it, but... I don't know who I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. The only answer I have is "not this!"
It's all so unfair.
I want them to pay for this. I mean, if something happens to me, it'll all be her fault. But I doubt she'll be sorry. She doesn't seem like she has much of a conscience.
The door opens, to reveal a woman who looks as not-Chinese as the restaurant. She looks like she's taken the role of a laundress in an old Hollywood movie.
"You're here for the job," she tells me. "Come in, come in."
I open my mouth to say I'm not. Nothing comes out.
"Come in," she says, definitely making it an order now.
"Do I have to?" I ask.
"If you want money," she says.
I don't. I mean, I guess I do in that I need money to buy food and pay rent if I have somewhere to live but... this feels like a weird dream. It can only be a weird dream.
I walk through the door. The door closes behind me. I don't hear it but I feel the change in the air, like jaws have snapped shut behind me. I want to turn and run. I don't. I can't because my new employer is dragging me towards the back.
"Kitchen," she says. "Sink. Wash up."
There's no-one else in here. I didn't walk past any patrons and there's no-one cooking. But there are piles of crockery like they've been feeding an army.
"What about the terms of employment?" I ask.
There's no answer.
I turn around and she's gone.