When I worked at the University, every morning a plain doughnut lay for half an hour or so on a paper napkin beside my computer.
Lunch break. Walking through downtown Berkeley, I remembered the sweet crust, washing it down with warm coffee.

At the nameless corner deli, a woman was spreading tuna fish onto white bread with her back to the counter.
She grinned at me when she turned around. I smiled back.
"Its good to see you," I said.

"Where have you been?" she asked.


She still served homemade wonton soup for $1.35. I ate it too fast,

"I hope you come back to stay," she said. I looked out the window, but it was a mountain stream running through the ravine in Colorado -- not Shattuck Avenue-- that I wanted to see.

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