Table for one, please

Don’t worry,” I told the cashier as I tried to stop the blood flowing from my nose. “I’m used to this.” He gave me a puzzled look before gesturing to the restaurant’s kitchen and telling me to wash my hands there when I was ready. The nosebleed — which conveniently
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Kind of like peas in a pod

Man Under Bridge

I grew up behind the orange curtain in a city of wide streets and Del Taco. One of those suburban cookie-cutter places in Orange County, the kind of scene subject to satire after satire, was home to me for 18 years. Then I made the great pilgrimage to Berkeley — perhaps
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