Sip from a Stranger

Somewhere off Willow St. in Long Beach, the shop smells of Naan & spices. Inside,there are three oscillating fans, rickety & loud. The glass case that encloses the tin trays of food is sweating. There's one customer listening to a pocket radio propped on the table. On the counter, sits a mini-figurine of Shiva & a small vase stuffed with toothpicks. I order a plate of food and ask for hot tea. The owner looks at me a bit puzzled, almost impressed. He points to a table(signal to sit) and disappears through the tapestry draped over the doorway. Five minutes later, he appears from the back of the shop, walks to where I am and sets down a steaming cup. He walks away before I have time to say thank you. I sip. It's perfect, pure, unlike anything. This man, once a stranger is now a friend, for he has shared with me a secret, a tradition, his routine. I turn in my seat and lift my cup in a salute of respect to the shop owner. He answers with a kind nod and disappears through the tapestry draped over the doorway. The best things in life are never on the menu. I will visit this magician again, somewhere off Willow St. in Long Beach. RW