A Halal Guy
<p>As crowds march up and down 6th Avenue in the West Village, a man remains confined to the same rectangle, six days a week, from eleven a.m. to midnight. Boxed inside a halal cart, he is either cooking and taking orders or waiting and cleaning. Or chatting. The man takes small talk seriously, has mastered it. Good manners, he believes, matter in his business as much as the food. When a Yemeni customer jokes about the hurdles of the immigration bureaucracy, he serves empathy alongside chicken over rice. When a homeless couple pockets two sodas but only pays for one, he pretends not to notice. “They have done this before, but what are you gonna do?” he says. “We share the streets; I want no enemies.”</p>
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