“You look terrible.”
“That’s the plan.”
She adjusted my collar.
“Your mother would either be extremely proud or scold you for doing something foolish.”
I smiled.
“Probably both.”
I parked four blocks from Rosie’s and walked toward Grand Avenue.
Almost immediately, I noticed something uncomfortable.
People avoided looking at me.
A woman pushing a stroller moved farther away.
A businessman checked his back pocket as I approached.
Near the corner of Grand and Fifth, I passed a man sitting beside a cardboard sign asking for help.
He wore an old coat and had a gray beard.
As I walked past, he looked directly at me and gave a small nod.
I returned it.
He was the only stranger who acknowledged me during the entire walk.
At noon, I opened the glass doors of Rosie’s.
The little bell above the entrance rang.
I had installed that bell eleven years earlier because the Blue Plate had one just like it.
