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		She did her homework at my assistant's table whilst I'd my feet up on my desk as I read Murakami's A Wild Sheep Chase.  For an hour we were in the same room, quiet except for her sometimes shufflin' in her seat or my turnin' a page.  It was early Saturday evenin'.  "Let's go get dinner," she finally said. We'd some Japanese soul food with warm sake.  It rained in the mornin' and as winter goes in Los Angeles, it wasn't the coldest I've felt, but I did wear a jacket.  Ok, that probably ain't gonna mean anythin' to anyone livin' anywhere where it snows, but the atmosphere in the restaurant was perfect considerin'. Every wall space hung either a framed Japanese paintin', Japanese mask, Japanese fish kite, Japanese calligraphy, or Japanese carvin'.  She wore her handmade earrings again.  Later, at the coffee/tea shop I mustered a mention that her ears weren't bad lookin'.  Across the street, there were two police cars. Their lights were flashin', but their sirens weren't soundin'.  Soon an ambulance drove by followed by some fire trucks.  We talked 'bout words as we sat at the same table we did the last time we patronized the place.  Later, a demolished car was trucked away.  "Can they still repair it?" she asked.  "I doubt it," I guessed. (1.27.12)