I rode the bus to immigration to pick up a document then wandered until I stumbled upon China Town and then Freshman.
“Oh! Abigail! Is that you?”
How random, how fateful to come across my roommate in the afternoon outside of China Town. I joined her on her mission to find a dumpling restaurant and we conquered three wicker baskets in the single room restaurant.
Neighboring China Town was a gaudily appointed Texas Street. We hopped over the imaginary line.
“We’re in Texas, now!”
The feel was different: all the stores were closed except for Russian souvenir shops and garbage rolled across the street like a tumbleweed. Not even the fake cowboy statues could rescue the dingy atmosphere.
Maybe it wasn’t so far off from a ghost town.
We made it through Texas Street without any duels, from cowboys or the hardened-looking pawn shop owners. All the while we couldn’t stop exclaiming that destiny had brought us together.
Well, destiny or dumplings.