She is making noodles for herself. The water bubbles and boils like the laugh of a child and the
thick udon noodles swirl slightly in the pot. She portions out a generous chunk of the stew, making sure to pick out the sharp bony pieces. The smell of chili oil and tender beef fills the tiny apartment, wrapping
around her like a familiar embrace.
It is during then that the dad awakes from his nap. The smell reaches his nose. When his eyes
open, he sees a tray, with a pair of chopsticks and one big bowl of homemade ramen.
The dad and daughter were walking down a street. It was an old street, one with the decorative
windows on the houses and a plain wall blocking them off. The alley was too narrow to park a car on but
instead lined with bicycles. The late evening wind blew as the petals of the golden rain trees flew down,
coating the alley’s brick road with a blanket of yellow. There! The daughter says. She pointed at a restaurant with a big red lantern next to it.
The girl ran ahead into the setting sun, leaving the dad to catch up. They enter the tiny restaurant, lifting the noren flaps. Instantly, a rush of hot air greeted their faces. Looking around, the dad pointed at an empty table that a lady was clearing off.
Take that table, I’ll order food. The girl giggled and skipped off.
The dad went off to wait in the line. There were only a couple of menu items: Ramen with beef,
extra beef, and a plate of veggies to go with your broth. A marker slashed through all the prices, marking
them 30 percent down. The aroma of spicy chili oil and meat was in the air, just strong enough to knock
out the smell of the cigarette smoke that usually filled the air.
Two bowls of ramen with extra beef, the father said.
14 yuan.
Wait in the other line, the man said.
The man turned to the back.
两碗牛肉面，加牛肉! he said.
The father went into the other line. Five minutes later, he received a tray with two large bowls of
ramen. He brought the steaming bowls back to the little table, then lifted one of them off the tray to his
daughter.
The father drizzled chili oil and vinegar over her noodles, and the rich, spicy aroma filled the air.
The girl with a mischievous grin, she arranged the meat chunks into a smiley face.
Look, Dad. Its happy!
She lifted one of the thick udon noodles like a trophy, careful to not disturb her masterpiece,
before slurping it down loudly. She giggled again.
Micheal? You okay?
Hugh? Yeah. I am. Just remembered something.
What was it about?
He lifted the bowl of noodles off the tray and slid it on the table. There were two worn spots on
the table, left over the years from bowls scraping on the cherry wood.
He stared at the barren spot opposite of him.
He sighed. You remind me of her sometimes, he said.