Charcoal smoke driftsover the low tin roofthe smell of grilled meatmixes with the morning mistthe stall owner sits fanning the red coals
A young womanorders a small bowl of phởsits on a low stoolwaiting for the water to boilchopsticks in her hand eyes looking far away
The sound of a street cartrattles at the lane's mouthcalling out bánh mìin a hoarse voicesomeone buys in a hurry without time to stop
The young woman eatseach soft strand of phởthe broth still hotsteam rising to her faceshe dabs her lips with the back of her hand
The stall owner asks"anything else?"she shakes her headplaces money on the tablethen steps outside into the early light
The charcoal stove still glowsunder the pot of boiling waterthe stall owner sitsand fans the coals againsmoke drifts over the roof for the next customer