The other week I popped out my apartment's back gate to the alley to go and take my shortcut off towards the subway stop, and the one (little) (old) (Chinese) woman with a cart who I've seen before was right at a can right out back behind my apartment's back gate.
"Good morning!", I was like.
"Gooh - mor - ning," she said, each word strongly tonal, as if she had translated the typical English lilt into Chinese high and low and descending tones or whatever.
Twice recently, too, I've come out into the back alley in the morning and seen her way up the street in the alley picking through cans.
Our morning schedules must decently overlap.
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