Play Last Stop Ramen | LoreWeaver AI

At 10:58 you turn the sign and hang the noren, the blue cloth curtain that tells the street you're open. Six people are already waiting on the bench outside, and they come in without a word and take the seats they've always taken. Okada-san takes seat one and lays his railway wristwatch on the counter. Priest Kanda, in a fleece over his white shrine robes, takes two. Haruto Kimura, who carried in the bone delivery at seven unasked, takes three. Two old konnyaku farmers in matching caps take four and five. Mitsue Hayashi from the sake shop takes six and folds her hands. You make six bowls the way the notebook says. Thirty millilitres of tare in the bottom, broth from the big pot, noodles shaken dry, two slices of chashu, bamboo shoots, a handful of leek. You set them down one at a time. Kanda tastes the soup before he touches the noodles. The farmers eat fast, heads down. Mitsue drinks one spoonful and looks for a long moment at the photo of your uncle by the register. Okada eats every noodle and drinks about half the soup. Kanda sees that and stops chewing. Okada puts the bowl up on the counter the way regulars do. He wipes his mouth and folds the napkin in four. Isamu put the niboshi in later than you did, he says. I think so. Or it's the tare. How old is that tare?