C. and I reminisced over dim sum at a crowded and noisy restaurant. We have not seen each other since our college days. And upon our meeting we extended courtesies to one another way over what was proper, considering that our friendship was quite beyond superficial means. Pleasantries were exchanged to and fro. I asked of her recent developments; she in response inquired of my life after university. There was an odd hesitation in me that I did not feel comfortable to divulge my current life over to this person that I at once felt to be indispensable. By the same token I did not venture in areas that I consider to be overly personal.

Shrimp dumpling was brought first to our table. The waiter spoke at first in rapid Cantonese, of which I failed to fathom, then changed to a softer tone in mandarin, asking if we would like to try the special-of-the-day dish. At present the ashen noon sky begun falling heavy raindrops that, despite the chattery noise confined in the restaurant, a muffled sound of rain splashing against pavement can be heard continuously. The hot steam emitting from the BBQ pork bun looked especially tantalizing at the advent of falling rain and temperature.

Just as I was fumbling with the paper wrapper of the bun, the questionary floodgate of C. that I have known so well over the years is finally open and let loose (Is it the rain?). Deep, hardball questions were thrown at random at a rate that I couldn't take two bites before giving answers that were deemed satisfactory to her. By the time at which she needed to take a sip of the lukewarm oolong tea the steam of the bun had already evaporated. Of course I don't feel sorry; this is the C. that I adore.

One by one the dishes came: Chicken feet (C. would never touch), pork dumpling and shu-mai, HK style noodle, rice-noodle sheet with shrimp and fried bread, sesame rice ball, and mango pudding (C.'s favorite). We ate slowly and joyously. Our lunch must have taken more than two hours (there are many people waiting outside for tables), of which not a moment passed without one of us uttering a notion that is of interest. I was glad to hear that C. has found life to be agreeable. Of all the people I know in our university department she is after all the few who have actually realize her dream of working in the field of press. She satisfied my curiosity about the actual field by answering each inquiry with much animation. In doing this service to me I felt my miseries were unclouded.

We bid goodbye at the front door. The rain is falling like fine needles at a much slower pace. C. will already be leaving Los Angeles without really stepping in. She wished me luck in my endeavor in finding a more suitable life. I watched her ran to her small rental car and saw her drive off. I am always the one watching over others move on -- I couldn't help but to feel.