The Chinese lady that runs the Mexican food shop.


I sometimes stay and eat my dinner in the shop, while she drills me about my life and eating habits.   And while her tone and words haven’t softened towards me, her actions have.  Instead of making me come to the counter for my food, she brings it straight over to me, and she brings me sides I didn’t order, all delicately garnished.  “Here.  *drop plate*  You need more protein.  Don’t eat outside.”  *deadpan expression*

I sometimes wonder if it’s my pregnancy or my company.  And I feel like if I hugged or thanked her, she wouldn’t like it somehow.   So to show my gratitude, I sit.  And eat.


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