A Searching Soul

We spent the next three years of college sampling the wares offered by the countless vendors in University City. Always we ordered wonton soup, honoring the challenge that bound us. Hao Shue, the new guy, became a treasured friend and an enthusiastic participant in our search.

Upon graduation, everything changed. Gradually we found ourselves unable to find time for delirious culinary exploration. Our jobs, our new families took over. We met in an melancholy air at that very first noodle cart and huddled in the spring rain as it was agreed there was no better wonton soup elsewhere. The search was abandoned.

Not so for Hao Shue. He was solitary in his studies, and so he remained in his personal life. “We are not looking far enough,” he said that day. We bid goodbye to him at the rocket port, where the looming gantries sent their shadows away for miles.

“Where will you go?” I asked.
“All the worlds, old friend, until I find the most perfect wonton soup,” he replied.
I would not see him again for a long time.

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