The weather was crashing and banging over my head, I was soaking wet and cold, and I had just missed a bus that was a rare creature at night.
OK, I thought. The gods have spoken. Instead of waiting in the rain for the next bus, or walking home in it, I’d pop into Tung Sing’s for a bowl of wor wonton soup, good and hot. Then, with a full stomach I’d see if my luck improved.
The owner, Cindy, greeted me warmly as always. We went back a long way, back to the days when the neighborhood at least had memories of being working-class. Read the rest of this entry »