The world closes around me like a familiar glove. Looking out down the avenue I see paper lanterns, hung from buildings and power lines and lights indiscriminately. Tiny women hawk live chickens in huge voices, wrangling their customers to pay more than they want to. The smells wash over me and my eyes close to savor it. My ears and nose tell me I am back in Xu Chang, perhaps Jian Ye.

Then a horn blares. Oh yes, that's right. I am standing in the middle of the street like a damned idiot in San Francisco's China Town... damn. Nodding apologetically to the cab I hurry to the curb. Walking to Mei Fong's always brings back memories. That's why I do it at least three times a week, for at least ten years now.

Ten years already? I sigh heavily. Nearly time to move on again.

Arriving in the restaurant I hang my long overcoat on the hooks provided for regulars and seat myself at my table. The kitchens savory aroma reaches me as Mei Ling opens it's door and walks over to me. That sway in her hips would affect me a lot more if I hadn't known her since she was nine.

"You're late Jun." she says flatly as she sets a glass of water down for me. "As usual."

"And you are rude, Ling." I add, continuing our long tradition of adversarial meetings, "As usual."

Smirking at me she says in perfect Cantonese, "Welcome to Mei Fong. Would you like to order soup before your meal?" she blinks in a vapid way that makes me doubt my eyes. I had no clue she could do ditzy.

"What do you want anyway?" she continues in English, "The usual? Again?"

I decide to surprise her, "Tell you what, surprise me. I trust you."

The smirk stops as she is surprised by this. "Sure, Jun.", she says in a rush and hurries off before I can change my mind. Her backside makes me doubt that I have any memories about a scabby kneed tomboy from years ago.

Opening my paper I peruse the articles. It seems some idiotic rock star got high or drunk and wrapped his car around landscape in New Orleans. I'll bet his latest album goes double platinum by tomorrow. Nothing else happening of any note. Fluff stories all over the place. Maybe Ann Landers will be good today. I shudder as I think about if she had been around when I was with Liu... she and Chuko would have had invincible strategists for generations in their family if they had wed!

The kitchen opens again after a few minutes. The aroma makes me salivate and I look up as she unloads the tray. There seems to be an awful lot of it.

"Am I supposed to eat all of this?..' I trail off as she sets two plates out and sits across from me, serving up two plates of lunch. "Er, alright." This was new.

After a few bites Ling looks at me directly, "You never took me to the Fine Arts Museum like you promised.", she states.

What? When did I... Oh, wait. I told her when she was twelve that I would take her to see the exhibit that they put up. An anonymous philanthropist had donated a large sum of money and an extraordinary collection of items from ancient China. The art world had been stunned and Ling had wanted to go. As an anonymous philanthropist I had wanted to go along to see how the public appreciated it. I had promised her that I would take her when I went. Before we could go I had had to attend to some "business" in Germany. We never had made it after all.

"I'm sorry Ling," I begin, "but that was so long ago. You probably wouldn't be interested anymore."

"You said an upright and honorable man is nothing without his word." she says scathingly, "You promised me. Aren't you honorable?"

Ouch. Guerilla tactics of the worst kind. I give in, I'll take her.

"Okay, you win!" I say, holding my hands up in mock surrender, "Tell you what, if you are free tonight we can go. I don't have any business until day after tomorrow anyway. What say I pick you up around eight or so?"

I am graciously given permission to pick her up at that time and I finish my meal in bemused and perplexed silence. It really wasn't like her to play hardball. I just hope she'll dress appropriately for the museum. Kids do have weird ideas of "acceptable" nowadays.

God, I sound old.

Wait, I am.

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a smile like the sin of angels