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At An Asian Supermearket

A throat tickling ambience of chili garlic sauce settles over rows of Mung Bean paste and bottles of oyster sauce. Then clumsily I knock over and break a glass jar of hot curry powder. The lady at the cash register watches me jump backwards flapping at the spicy miasma. She is sixteen going on fifty. Her disdainful frown speaks volumes. I sneeze, and inwardly apologize to a pantheon of Chinese Gods for my sudden and wistful desire for a White Castle slider.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Book: Shattered Sighs