It was Orlando's idea of winter, and a stranger bought me soup

It was 52 degrees, which in Orlando is January, and I was shivering at a table alone in the Mills 50 district. The woman at the next table asked the kitchen for a second bowl of soup and slid it over without a word. She said, it is on me, it is what I would want. We talked for an hour about the places in Vietnam we both wanted to see. She never told me her name. I have been back on every cold night since. It has been warm.