hissed under her breath and stood there for a moment taking stock of the situation.
A man in faded blue scrubs and a café apron glanced over from nearby, picked up a mop, and came toward her with a slight limp in his left leg.
He told her not to move and cleaned up the spill himself and grabbed napkins and told the cashier to make her another coffee. She said she could pay for it. He reached into his apron pocket anyway and counted coins before the cashier told him it had already been handled.
That was when Emily really looked at him.
He was older, of course. Broader in the shoulders. Tired in the particular way of someone who has been tired for a long time without much relief. But the eyes were the same.
He glanced up at her and paused for half a beat and said






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