Not Even Fifteen Cents
She pushes the noodles of her Vietnamese mixed bun bowl around. "Look, there's nothing here!" She has already given most of the meat and imperial rolls from her meal to my grandfather and my dad. All that's left are the noodles. My dad asks me about work and we chat a little bit. "This wouldn't even cost fifteen cents," she says angrily, pushing the noodles around in the bowl some more. "Look at this!" My grandfather joins in. "Everything is just warm, not even hot." "I'm never coming back here. Ever!" She pushes the noodles around continually, demanding that we look at it. My father just smiles at her. "You're going to forget in three minutes anyway." She doesn't hear him. "I don't even think it will be three whole minutes," I reply to my dad. "Not even fifteen cents!" she mutters again. "Wednesday is better because then I have time to forget what it'