Searching For Erik
We went to the U District for lunch. He heeded without objection or statement to my famous Vietnamese restaurant. Our meal proceeded quietly as I took a break from talking, both of us eating noodles and staring out the nearby window to watch the movement of students and cars.
"This is nice."
It was the most Gabriel had uttered in a while, and I almost jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Yeah. This place doesn't look like much, but they make a mean pho."
"No, I meant out there. This area."
I scrutinized his movement back to University Way, at first seeing nothing more than unhappy students hauling backpacks around. Then, enhancing my search, I became conscious of the other small specialty restaurants, the coffee shops, and the used bookstores. It was a miscellaneous mix, somewhat worn around the edges, but it had a lot to offer quirky, studious types—even famous, solitary writers.