Three teens passed, faces glued to lit screens. One murmured “sorry” when he almost bumped into her. He didn’t look up.
A mother hurried in the direction of the car park, harried by a whining toddler.
Long minutes passed. She’d walked from the bus and her legs weren’t what they used to be. She leaned onto a lamppost and closed her eyes.
A bearded face leaned toward her. Another man behind.
“Will you help me cross the street?”
“At your service!” Both men offered their hands.
She smiled. “Mendel sent you. It’s what he used to say.”
For the Friday Fictioneers Challenge