William Rodriguez

I woke up Saturday wanting a bagel. The kind of want where you're already tasting it before your feet hit the floor.

I opened Yelp in bed. There were three places within walking distance. The top one had 847 reviews, four and a half stars, and the photos showed a thick everything bagel split open with cream cheese pillowed inside. I tapped directions and got dressed.

The shop had a chalkboard menu and a line that moved fast. I ordered the everything with scallion cream cheese. The guy behind the counter was efficient, friendly enough. I ate it on a bench outside. It was fine. The bagel was a little softer than I wanted. The cream cheese was good. I finished it and went home.

On Wednesday I met Dan for a beer after work. We were talking about nothing in particular and he said something about stopping at Marlow's on his way in.

"What's Marlow's?"

"The bagel place on Henry Street. I go there like every weekend."

I remembered the name. It had come up in my search on Saturday. Three and a half stars, maybe sixty reviews. I'd scrolled past it.

"Is it good?"

"It's the best bagel I've had since I moved here."

I nodded and we moved on to something else.

Saturday came around again and I thought about it on the walk over. Marlow's was on a side street, set back, with a hand-painted sign. Inside it was small. A woman was working the counter and another guy was at the slicer. There were maybe four kinds of bagels on the rack behind her, not twelve.

I ordered an everything with plain cream cheese. She asked if I wanted it warmed. I said sure.

I took it to a table by the window and unwrapped the foil. The bagel was dense and chewy and the crust cracked when I bit it. The inside was still warm. I ate the whole thing without looking at my phone.

I went back the next Saturday. The woman recognized me, or seemed to. I got the same thing.

The Saturday after that I tried the sesame.

I go on Saturdays now. Sometimes Sundays too.

The loudest signal isn't always the truest one. A star rating tells you what a stranger was willing to type. A trusted friend telling you where they actually go, week after week, tells you something else.