You’ve chosen wisely. Now put the sandwich in your mouth. THE STRANGER
The menu was a little yellow thing that accordioned out into something very organized but very daunting. I scanned it desperately. The line grew behind me.
With less care than the choice deserved, I ordered the California. The sandwich had avocado. I had traded California for Washington one year prior. Everything would be fine.
I was introduced to Tubs Gourmet Subs—a sandwich shop on Lake City Way that sits squat in a strip mall next to a teriyaki joint and at least two places where you can buy actual joints—by a Seattle native, my boyfriend at the time. On the way, my-soon-to-be-ex found out that he was probably going to fail a class at UW. He didn’t say a word during lunch. That echoed the remainder of our relationship.
