Morning arrives before the crowd.
Some tables are already taken. Others remain untouched.
Rice is portioned quietly.
Scooped, pressed, released.
The motion repeats without variation.
Coconut rice sits warm in the tray.
Steam lifts, then settles.
The pot is checked once, then left alone.
Fried chicken is lifted out and weighed by hand.
Anchovies follow. Then peanuts.
Each item lands in the same place.
Orders are short.
Most are spoken without looking.
Hands move before words finish.
Banana leaves are folded carefully.
Corners tucked in, edges pressed flat.
Paper replaces them when they run out.
By mid-morning, the queue forms and loosens.
People step aside when called, leave without lingering.
Tables turn over steadily.
Sambal is added once for some orders.
For others, it stays untouched.
Packets collect briefly, then are cleared.
A delivery trolley passes behind the stall.
Someone wipes a table clean and moves on.
The pace does not change.
Rice is replenished. Trays are realigned.
Another portion begins before the last one is finished.
What happens here repeats.
