“Sorry,” he said. “Just remembering something.”

Vanessa crossed her arms.

“Please don’t touch the furniture.”

Several nearby customers turned to look.

Harris immediately withdrew his hand.

“My apologies.”

He was seated at a small table beside the kitchen doors.

The constant swing of the doors created a draft, and every few seconds someone carrying plates hurried past him. A child at the next table stared openly at his worn coat before his mother pulled him closer.

Harris unfolded his menu.