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Weekly Contest #359
It was a quiet day in Artesia, and very warm at that. Cloudless, and enough wind to swish about that warmth so that a man could forget the winter and know that he would never be cold again. John sat at a little rickety metal table outside, sandwiched just between two others and their occupants. Behind him, a young couple, just the same as he and Mary would look when she finally arrived, and ahead, an old man sipping an espresso. John stared ahead at the back of the old man’s head, at his wispy white hair and his sunburned scalp. Occasionall...
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