Li sold oranges. Every morning, early, before the commuters awoke, he would spring up from his mattress, crawl into his overalls, rev up the scooter, down the dark street, left, right, left, straight for eight blocks, two lefts and a right, to Mr. Yu’s. He got the job right after school, with the intention of saving up for something more, but inertia kept him stuck. He planned to quit and go to flight school – he had earned enough money. He was not happy and wanted to leave, but every time he thought he had had enough, and was about to pluck up the courage, Mr. Yu would come round and say “Li, you’re the best orange seller we’ve got!” He would feel buoyed, and worth something, and he would think “Maybe this isn’t so bad after all”, and so he would set his pride down, and carry on as before, and sell some more oranges.