The old man stood, bent like a willow, barely taller than his seated wife. With a black plastic comb, he slowly raked through her unruly white hair. Her hands trembled, loosely resting in her lap, but her gaze was steady; she looked up at him with a knowing smile.
As we walked past, my two year old daughter caught the woman’s attention. The woman pointed a thin finger in our direction and the elderly couple paused to smile false teeth at us, their eyes squinted like asterisks.
The woman pulled words from my mouth and remarked in a whisper, “Look, dear, isn’t that a beautiful thing?”
