Eating out in Lichtenberg

Like recommended by Lichtenberg I went to the Sonla Bistro not far from she S-Bahn station Storkowerstraße. It was around one in the afternoon and the place was quite packed. I went for a table for two next to the bar, sat down and ordered (like recommended by Lichtenberg) the M27, “fried tofu with fresh vegetables in red curry sauce for 5€.”
They gave me a soup upfront but I didn’t want it. It looked like containing tons of MSG (monosodium glutamate) and I’m allergic.
While sitting there reading Berger’s Why we look at animals I perceived a quite loud burp and realized that someone was sitting at my table.
A 16 year old with grey t-shirt, a skate board underneath the table, blond hair, and skinny. Something was wrong with his eyes and something was definitely wrong with his stomach. He kept belching, not in this aggressive hool way, proud of how much you can drink, no, it was more like the precarious burp, not sure if it would be followed by loads of vomit.
I was stressed.
I mean this guy didn’t look dangerous. He was more the Larry Clark type skater kid who sniffed too much glue. I was afraid of the vomit and the consequences. The soup was still between us. Had he ordered? Does he have money? Why is he sitting next to me? Do I have to help him?
I looked around and there were more tables with nobody sitting at them. The waiters thought the skater knew me. Hell, it doesn’t matter what they think if he vomits all over me.
I realized that they have grass and bamboo on the ceiling. The fountain was making this dripping noise and a girl laughed somewhere. Time stood still.

I looked at the skater and the skater looked at me. It was some kind of a duel situation, which says: who loses has to bugger off. But he couldn’t hold the look for long because his stomach was in rebellion. And he didn’t bugger off either. Shit, now it happens. I moved, slowly and sat at another table. Reading, not looking. Why we look. The waiters asked if I didn’t care for the soup. No, no MSG today, Sir. They gave me M27.
The boy got up and went to the bar and they gave him an orange coloured plastic bag. Two take-away silver boxes in the bag. He paid with a lot of change and disappeared. Smiling.
Do I have to feel guilty now? Shit, nothing happened.
I ordered a beer. In daylight. In Lichtenberg. Like everybody else in the restaurant.