Went to a Donut Shop today.

Been there before.

Ah, the memories!

Never gets old, even at this late afternoon hour.

Sign said: We have Vietnamese tea.

I’m not like those who flap the wing on the right and might say, “You have it, you can keep it.”

No, I’m of the better ilk who might say, “Gotta try that!”

But we were in a hurry, so even if the tea was already brewed, it might slosh in the car, so we looked at the donuts.

Chaz said, “Whaddaya want?”

I said, “I can eat anything, and will, and do.”

He said, “Yeah, but whaddaya WANT?”

I said, “I’ll take one of those roundy things,” and they put a swirl in a bag.

And a glazed, which was always my favorite even when I was little because it’s the best, and was what we could afford back then when I was even poorer than I am now.

Chaz said, “Three glazed,” thinking of all of us.

I said, “And that long almondy thing in the front of which there is only one,” for Kristina, and the cashier counter lady grabbed it into the bag, and Chaz picked out his choice without filling because the filling, though desirable by prior experience, was currently ill advised, and I nodded in concurrent acknowledgement.

“Cash or charge?”

“Charge.”

“Master Card, American Express, Visa?”

“Visa.”

Transaction completed, tap, that unrecognizable signature by finger, and a receipt as a souvenir for later happy hours of reading as I digest the memory.

“I should come here more often.”

“Every day open seven days.”

My bad Ahnold impression: “Ahhll be baack!”

She called after me, “I threw in an extra!”

I said, “Good thinking. See you, sooner than later.”

We got home and we all feasted. Again.