Back then, we were broke. The budget for our weekend dates came from the living expenses I saved by skipping meals. Whenever we ate here, Amy would transfer more than half her wontons into my bowl.
"I already ate at the cafeteria," she would lie. "I'm too full."
During our poorest days, we could only afford a single bowl to share. Amy would insist she wasn't hungry, watching me eat with that gentle smile on her face.
I remembered my senior year internship. Right here, at this tiny stall, I looked at the girl laughing and chatting across from me, and I made a solemn vow.
*Amy, I promise you a good life.*
*For the rest of my life, having Amy is enough for Dominic Delgado.*
The vow still echoed in my ears.
But that girl would never forgive me again.
When I snapped back to reality, the proprietress had moved on to greet other customers. Perhaps the wontons were too hot; the rising steam blurred my vision.
I gripped the chopsticks and mechanically shoveled the scalding wontons into my mouth, one after another, until my throat refused to swallow anymore.
It hurt.
God, Amy, it hurt so much.
*I'm begging you—let me see you one more time.*
*Just one last look. Please.*