It's an unseasonably warm March day. This sort of strange warmth in winter months has apparently become the new norm. I was sitting on a bench on 17th street pondering this when an elegant, elderly woman sat next to me. She held a bouquet of flowers and an eco-friendly canvas bag full of greens. I gathered she stopped to rest. I had a brief but lovely conversation with her. I mostly listened. She looked like Anne Bancroft in Great Expectations save she didn't appear to've been suffering from a broken heart. A great big smile, she wore lipstick, her nails were short and perfectly polished in red, her hair was beautifully silver and freshly cut. The frame of her glasses were red as well, complimenting her manicure, a touch of silver jewelry on her wrists. A timeless outfit, it was colorful, capris and fresh black slip-ons. She talked about how fortunate we were to be alive and enjoy this beautiful day. After her rest she cradled her bouquet and stood up, her glasses on the bridge of her nose, she looked me straight in the eyes, gave me a big smile and bid me farewell.
