The smell of square tofu dices frying in a pan is magnificent, especially when mixed with the fragrance of sizzling soy sauce. Nonetheless, too much of anything is too much. The room is quickly filled with greasy smoke, and soon one must leave the room for sanity's sake.
Outside, the Friday afternoon lull on this landscape remains a positively eerie sight.
In the check-out line at the library, the little girl in front of me jumped up and down impatiently next to a basketful of books about elephants and rabbits. Carefully, I shielded the title of the novel I intended to check out: "The Human Stain" (Philip Roth). I know, it's ridiculous.