Author: Alma Pearce

I’m in a cafe eavesdropping on two elderly men, and one is telling the story of how he came into possession of his vest, which is certainly one of the ugliest vests I’ve seen. The old man is handsome, even handsome when wearing the thing, I think. His friend had arrived before him and was saving the table next to mine for their morning cup – he waited without ordering for himself, patient in his anticipation, glancing over at my empty document to pass the time; but old men are punctual, and he didn’t have to...