On the Ruins of His Regret I Soar novel Chapter 244

“We can get it to-go and eat somewhere else if you don’t like it,” Jessica offered, thinking he found the place too shabby.

But George just patted her shoulder. “Wait here for five minutes. I have to take care of something.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, watching as he got back in his car and drove off.

Jessica walked into the worn-down shop. “Hello, two large bowls, please.”

“Coming right up!” the owner called out.

The shop sold a local Clearwater specialty: Clearwater Shrimpettes. Jessica only knew about them because of her mother, Elizabeth. Her maternal grandmother was from Clearwater and had adored this particular dish. Elizabeth had tried it once as a child and fallen in love with it too. But her grandmother had passed away when she was young, and Elizabeth never learned the recipe. One day, she stumbled upon this little shop, and the taste was exactly as she remembered. When Jessica was old enough, Elizabeth started bringing her along. Jessica was hooked after the first bite.

After her mother died, she’d brought Amy here once. Whether it was a coincidence or not, Amy complained of a stomachache afterward. When Lance found out, he’d berated her, saying it was fine if she wanted to eat “garbage from a street stall,” but he would not tolerate her feeding it to Amy.

Jessica hadn’t been back since.

A few minutes later, two bowls were placed in front of her. “It’s been a while,” the owner said with a smile.

“You remember me?” Jessica asked, surprised.

“A pretty face like yours is hard to forget,” she chuckled. “Your mother used to bring you here all the time. Then you started coming by yourself. The last time I saw you was a year or two ago, with your daughter.”

Jessica smiled faintly. “Yes, I was away for a while. I only recently came back.”

“Well, this whole block is scheduled for demolition soon,” the owner said with a sigh. “After that, we’re heading back to our hometown. We’ve been working out here for fifty years.”

George took a bite and his eyes widened slightly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s made of flour, not shrimp?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed with a nod. “It’s flour shaped like little shrimp. That’s why they’re called Shrimpettes.”

“I see,” he said, nodding.

“To be honest, it’s not the most amazing thing you’ll ever taste,” she admitted, eating slowly. “But after a while, you start to crave it. The owner said they’re closing down soon. I’ll never get to have it again.”