The plastic was scratched from years of being carried in her purse, but I could still see her smile.
I knew she would have told me to go inside where the heaters were blowing.
A large black sedan pulled into the parking lot, its tires making a soft, clean hiss on the wet asphalt.
It stopped directly in front of the main entrance under the wide canvas canopy.
The driver’s door opened, and a man in a dark uniform stepped out holding a large black umbrella.
He opened the rear door for a man wearing a tailored black suit and a heavy gold watch.
The man in the black suit did not look at the rain or at the wet asphalt.
He walked straight toward the double glass doors of the restaurant, his black leather shoes shining under the entrance lights.
The driver closed the door and moved the sedan toward the far side of the lot, near where I was standing.
