In the bagel shop there is an Asian woman and a young child sitting at a table across from me. ‘Elizabeth’ is spelled out on the back of the girl’s jacket, and she is eating a bagel with the woman who I presume is her mother. Before eating, the woman makes a sign of the cross while looking around furtively. It is a gesture of pride and shame – probably just superstition anyway. I avert my eyes, shame bred from shame, embarrassed at such a show of faith. The woman and the child speak quietly. I strain to hear what they’re saying. It’s a mid-morning hour when most people are at work or school, and it is peaceful.
They were there before me, but I finish my bagel first, and leave.
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