Today is the day you and your dad are…were going to get a pineapple. Apparently he bought it last night without asking you first, and to think he thought I didn’t want to drive over to the next town to buy one.

You are sitting at a table at the restaurant “Hukilau Cafe” on Ouha, Hawaii, a plate of waffles in front of you. They look delicious, but they also look firm, easy to cement into pieces of something.

Perhaps a house.

You cut a piece of the waffle into a rectangular shape and place it upright in your plate, laying out the land. Then you do the same three more times, creating a small little box. You cut a small piece in one side of the box, a big enough space for a tiny human to walk into the house.

Then you assemble the roof. You put the rest of the waffle on top and shave off the edges. With those pieces, you eat them. You were hungry after all. You save a piece of the waffle for the door and put it in the doorway of this new house of yours.

Happy with the house, you pull open the door of the house and it falls off…you are no longer happy with the house. You look around the table before looking back at the house and trying to stuff the door in a way into it that creates some kind of hinge-like mechanism, but can’t seem to figure it out.

“Would this help?” A sudden, gruff but soft voice erupts from beside you. Turning, you see a man in a flower shirt and some kind of cargo pants. And what is that smell? Is that fish? I love that smell…

The man stabs a small toothpick into the waffle house, now slightly soggy with the adhering syrup, on the side of the door. You pull it open and it opens perfectly, just as you had intended. You smile at the man, a silent thank you falling between you as you turn back to start eating again.

The man sits down across from you. “Name’s Henry Roth, what’s yours?” He says softly, extending his hand over the table.