Rules of the Game-1
averly Jong
I rengt rategy for s, respect from otually, t at time, chess games.
quot;Bite back your tongue,quot; scolded my motoore t sold bags of salted plums. At ;ise guy, go against be seen.quot;
t back my tongue as ered tore ly plucked a small bag of plums from t it on ter of tems.
My moted rutances. e lived in San Franciscos Co of taurants and curio s terious t to knohe names of.
e lived on averly Place, in a t sat above a small Ceamed pastries and dim sum. In till quiet, I could smell fragrant red beans as to a pasty sness. By daybreak, our flat en as my fat ready for hree clicks.
At t playground bencry people sat cracking roasted ermelon seeds eettering to an impatient gat playground, self. It eries and adventures. My broto tc onto a stiff s of amount of insect s leaves for omers. It ral curse t of American doctors. Next to ter ions and festive red banners.
Fartreet ank crourtles struggling to gain footing on tiled sides. A ten sign informed tourists, quot;itore, is all for food, not for pet.quot; Inside, tcained ly gutted tomers cried out ted, quot;Give me your fres,quot; On less cro days, tes of live frogs and crabs o poke, boxes of dried cuttlefisime; ttened side and reminded me of my motory of a careless girl reet and ; reported my mother.
At table caf?air t led to a door marked quot;tradesmen.quot; My brot nigourists never to ed only in Ces in front of taurant. o ture o ure ted duck s er ook