A lady in a green wool coat sat near the front window, her hands folded in her lap as she talked to a man across from her.
She looked out toward the dark parking lot once, but she did not see me standing near the dumpster.
I decided I could not wait for the blue sedan to come back.
The cold had reached my chest, and Tommy felt too quiet in my arms.
I stepped away from the brick wall and began to walk toward the front entrance of the restaurant.
The wind tried to push me back, but I held Tommy tight with both arms, keeping my head down.
The wet blanket dragged slightly on the concrete of the walkway as I reached the canopy.
The smell of steak butter and hot bread came through the seams of the heavy glass doors.
The hostess behind the high mahogany podium looked up from her seating book.
