D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

The multi-Asian restaurant on the corner near my work failed a while back. I noticed the menus had come down in the drive-through, and in fact there was a mallard duck sitting there instead of a car, although of course it was early in the morning. There was a notice on the door thanking us all for our business. I was sad. I've never been able to get back there since I started working nights, but before then, their $3.99 vegetarian curry rice bowl was just what I needed. Recently the signs have been removed (they always looked odd anyway; it had had another name before and the shape didn't fit the letters) and the faded pink has been repainted dark yellow. This morning I walked past there in hopes of catching the express bus down the road after just missing the 6:50 regular bus, and there was a big rustling going on in the hedge. So I stopped and looked, and a set of human fingers appeared. So I walked around the corner and took another look from the back. A guy in T-shirt and jeans was lying face down on the asphalt of the parking lot, scrabbling away determinedly with one hand. Soil and trash - an old newspaper, a can, chocolate wrappers - lay beside him. A very eager new sole proprietor? A homeless guy excavating a hidey-hole away from the heat of the day? Someone with reason to believe a gun, a safety deposit key, or a $20 bill had been dropped in the hedge? I did not ask.