TO BEND AIR

Scott's arguing the last master hasn't been born. Second to last, maybe, but never the last. "Like saimin, brah. Always be more. If every noodle shop on earth doesn't fold, noodles will happen."

We're at a Kalihi ramen place. I'm hungry and order another bowl. They say they've run out of noodles.

Scott laughs. "Just no more noodles tonight. Doesn't mean no noodles ever again."

Next day I go back. I imagine they'll say they thought it was made clear last night: No more noodles. Ever.

Wonderfully, they serve me steaming saimin, and the air bends in waves above it.