Julie Chan Is Dead

by Liann Zhang

A few hundred messages are from men asking if she’d like to see a picture of their penis and sending it anyway (preblurred by the app, thankfully).

Voice and composure are how you pick out a fraud, at least according to my aunt. She could walk into a department store dressed like she’s homeless, but if she carried the studied and condescending air of the elite, she could return a stolen La Mer container filled with Nivea without a receipt and come home with a crisp two grand in her pocket. (This worked five times before La Mer changed their refund policy.)