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"
Not
sour
at
all
.
"
"
Not
at
this
cafeteria
,
"
I
said
.
"
Too
many
people
from
overseas
.
Go
to
a
local
place
if
you
want
the
real
stuff
.
"
I
picked
up
the
umeboshi
from
my
tray
and
popped
it
into
my
mouth
.
I
made
a
show
of
savoring
the
flavor
.
Truth
be
known
,
it
was
sour
enough
to
twist
my
mouth
as
tight
as
a
crab
’
s
ass
at
low
tide
,
but
I
wasn
’
t
about
to
give
her
the
satisfaction
of
seeing
that
.
"
Pretty
good
.
"
I
smacked
my
lips
.
Rita
stood
,
her
mouth
a
stern
line
.
She
left
me
sitting
at
the
table
as
she
strode
down
the
corridor
between
the
tables
,
past
throngs
of
soldiers
,
and
up
to
the
serving
counter
.
There
,
Rachel
spoke
to
a
gorilla
of
a
man
who
could
reach
up
and
touch
the
ceiling
without
so
much
as
stretching
-
the
same
gorilla
from
the
4th
whose
fist
my
jaw
had
encountered
all
those
loops
ago
.
Beauty
and
the
Beast
were
understandably
surprised
to
see
the
subject
of
their
conversation
walk
up
to
them
.
The
entire
cafeteria
could
sense
that
something
was
up
;
the
conversations
dimmed
,
and
the
banjo
music
stopped
.
Thank
God
.
Rita
cleared
her
throat
.
"
Could
I
get
some
dried
pickled
plums
?
"
"
Umeboshi
?
"
"
Yeah
,
those
.
"
"
Well
,
sure
,
if
you
like
.
"
Rachel
took
out
a
small
plate
and
started
piling
it
with
umeboshi
from
a
large
,
plastic
bucket
.
