I noticed her stuttering along the pavement at nearly five o’clock, her walker’s wheels squeaking with each stride.
Two supermarket bags, one containing a loaf of bread and many cans and the other containing something warm wrapped in a towel and packed in takeout cartons, hung off the handles.

She was unaware that I was observing from the other side of the street.
She was resolute and concentrated, as if this small patch of pavement were a mission she would not fail to complete.

Miss Inez was someone I had seen previously.
lived three homes down the street, waved at the mailman as if it were a formal appointment, and kept her curtains open at all times. Continues…