no country for young ninjas
The rain isn't falling as heavily now. I throw back the hood of my jacket and check the time on my cel: 5:33. Still over an hour before she has to meet her friends. She walks closely beside me, focused on some point up ahead. I watch as she steps into a large puddle, the cloth boots she's wearing instantly soaked. She doesn't seem to notice.
"What should we do?" she asks.
"I don't know. Let's just go into some stores in Chinatown."
"Killing time isn't easy."
"No."
We enter the first store we see, a small discount place on the corner. She heads to the back, and I spend a few minutes looking at the kitchenware racks. I'd like to find a bento box I can take into work, but the shelves are stacked with porcelain sushi plates and tea cups. I'd likely have to go to a Japanese specialty store for anything else.
The old Chinese man behind the counter is busy wrapping something in newspaper. He glances at me briefly as I walk in his direction.
"What should we do?" she asks.
"I don't know. Let's just go into some stores in Chinatown."
"Killing time isn't easy."
"No."
We enter the first store we see, a small discount place on the corner. She heads to the back, and I spend a few minutes looking at the kitchenware racks. I'd like to find a bento box I can take into work, but the shelves are stacked with porcelain sushi plates and tea cups. I'd likely have to go to a Japanese specialty store for anything else.
The old Chinese man behind the counter is busy wrapping something in newspaper. He glances at me briefly as I walk in his direction.