I returned the knives I had just sharpened to the lady in the yellow dress. She was happy with the results, but asked if her new keys were ready. I told her to come back tomorrow, then turned to the older man waiting behind her. He looked at me with an ashen face, as if he shouldn’t be far from a bathroom.

“Egg drop soup,” he said, sniffling into a handkerchief.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the only thing that makes a cold bearable,” he said. “My family has done this forever. If anyone gets sick, we don’t take medication; we eat egg drop soup, and it somehow works its magic. Better by the next day.”

“No, sir. What I mean is that this is a rental business,” I explained gently. “We rent carpet cleaners and sharpen knives. We don’t make soup. Try the Chinese restaurant next door.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his shoulders sinking even lower. “My wife always brought home soup for me when I was sick. I knew she got it from around here somewhere. I must have gotten turned around.”

He looked so small standing there, holding his handkerchief, searching for a rhythm his wife used to handle for him. I patted his hand kindly. Walking to the front door, I turned the open sign around and set the little paper clock to show I’d be back in fifteen minutes.

“Let me walk you over,” I said, taking him by the arm.

The aroma of toasted sesame and rich broth hit us with an olfactory tsunami as we opened the door to the Oriental Bowl. The woman standing behind the counter looked at the old man, and I watched as her face fell. She shouted something to a man in the back in a language that sounded beautiful, even though I didn’t understand a word. Coming around the counter, she wrapped the old man in a gentle hug and guided him to a booth.

“I was wondering when I would see you,” she said softly. “I know you might not remember me, but I was at Daisy’s funeral last spring. You were so deep in your grief, I just couldn’t intrude.”

A man emerged from the kitchen holding a plastic bag packed with several containers of hot soup. As the old man reached for his wallet to pay, the lady stopped him.

“Daisy came in about a month before she passed.” she said, her voice gentle.”She paid for a running account for you. She wanted to make sure you were taken care of whenever you needed it. Come in anytime you want.”

The old man looked up, tears finally spilling over his eyes.

“She always took care of me,” he whispered. “Looks like she still is.”