Seeing her tentative at the light, cars whizzing by, hands filled with grocery bags, Watch it, Lady” I said before escorting her cross the street. I’m thirty; she looked about 100.
“Live far away?”
“Not too far.”
“Need help getting there?”
“Don’t know, not there yet?”
“Married?”
“Was. Irving died, said it was from my cooking.”
We walked slowly up the block.
“You kid. Family?”
“Had one.”
“Parents left me. Dog died.”
“Working?”
“I’m a waiter.”
“For anything in particular.”
We paused at the door, looked each other over careful like.
“Need help getting inside?”
“Believe I do, she said.
