You know the kind of place that doesn’t have a sign, only a curtain?
I found it on a Sunday. Ten seats, one grandma, and a broth that tasted like it had been going for thirty years — probably because it had. She wouldn’t tell me what was in it. She just refilled the pot and shrugged.
I ordered two bowls. She only charged me for one.
If you know, you know.
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