mya cafe 166 văn cao
“Oh, xin chào, Clare,” the security guard says as I pull into the parking area. “Bạn khỏe không?”
“Tôi khỏe,” I say immediately.
From inside, Huong calls out to me. “The usual, Cah-LARE?” Even after all this time, she still has trouble with my name.
This is a routine that we’ve been practicing for more than a year now.
I think the reason I keep coming back to Mya is mostly down to habit. I inherit this from my father. We’re both people who get stuck in the same rut, the same routines, and either don’t want to or don’t see a need for change. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Habit brings me here.
The usual arrives after a few minutes. Kimbab trung and sinh to chanh leo. I have a chat with the waitress for a few minutes as she sets it down. She’s a new addition to the cafe, and is studying English. I tell her about Australia, and about my life here.
“What is Sydney like?” she asks.
Like my ex, I want to say. Expensive. Hot. Distant. No matter how much you love it, it will not love you back.
“Sydney is different,” I settle on.
I pay 35,000vnd for my smoothie and 25,000vnd for the kimbab.
“See you tomorrow, Cah-LARE,” Huong says, handing me change. “Hẹn gặp lại.”
“Hẹn gặp lại,” I reply.
