Did you have supper? It was after breakfast, mid-evening over there.
No reply. My heart beat faster, irrationally. His friend Amber was there too. She’d learned Vietnamese, he’d said.
The phone chimed. I jumped for it.
“Is that Stan?” my husband asked from the kitchen.
He came over to read the reply.
A picture popped up of a glowing building and a lotus flower fountain.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said. “My lucky little boy. Still, I worry.”
“He’ll be fine. After all, he’s nine now. He’s not a baby anymore.”
This Friday Fictioneers story is very late, but since Rochelle chose my picture this week as the prompt, I wanted to make sure I wrote one. I took this picture in Ho Chi Minh City when I was there on business a few months ago. I wrote a kid’s book about my travels called Stanley and Amber in Southeast Asia, about a kid and his unicorn friend traveling around Southeast Asia (it started out as a Flat Stanley project for my niece; thus, the name). So, I thought I’d write this from the parent’s perspective.
I normally post only fiction here, but since I’m currently traveling in Southeast Asia for work, I have more than my normal share of interesting stories to share.
Because I’m traveling for work, I actually have to work even in the evenings, although I’m sure some people think I’m just on vacation. This involves hours of emails and other computer work and since I don’t like sitting alone in my hotel room for hours, I like to go to coffee shops
This evening after dinner, I found a second-floor coffee shop on a main road in Hanoi and ordered a medium milk coffee. However, when they brought it, there was almost nothing in the cup. This wasn’t a small, let alone a medium. It looked like the dregs left over when someone finishes their drink. I brought it up and asked about it just to make sure I’d gotten the right thing. They said they’d bring another cup even though I insisted it wasn’t necessary.
Then I tasted it. It was definitely NOT milk coffee. It was very strong and tasted quite like . . . I checked the receipt and yep, they had given me an espresso. I had asked for a ca phe sua (milk coffee) and she had apparently heard the “s” and that was all.
It was about that time that they brought the second espresso. Not only did I feel like a jerk for complaining (from their point of view) that my espresso was too small, but now I had two of them at 8:00 pm. Of course, I wasn’t obligated to drink them, but hey, it was free coffee.
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