[ e n double u ]

The professorial man next to me at the counter, who’s been reading the paper through dinner, signals he’s finished. Emilio, who rules the counter trade, collect the plates and calls out the prices of every dish consumed. The cute cashier rings them up. “$43.75,” says the cashier. “Is that all?” deadpans Emilio. “Isn’t that enough,” replied the customer, whose sigh is only half put-on. The prices are high here. But a sign on the wall silences anyone who would complain. “Cheap seafood is not fresh,” it reads, “and fresh seafood is not cheap.” “Next time we’ll charge you twice,” smiles the cashier. The professor takes off his glasses and hands them to Emilio. They weren’t his, it turns out. He had borrowed them from Randazzo’s.