At eleven the next morning, Rosalind arrived in an elegant lavender dress, her hair freshly styled at the salon, wearing the triumphant smile of a woman about to be celebrated in front of everyone whose opinion she valued.

The smile lasted right up until her eyes found the faded sign above the entrance. Community Center.

We climbed the stairs to the second floor, and I opened the heavy wooden door and held it for the guests, and let them see what I had prepared.

Thirty bright red cups of instant noodle soup stood in perfect, gleaming rows down the length of a long folding table.

In the very center, a large industrial water boiler bubbled and hissed, cheerful as anything.