Down by the bus stop opposite the church, the old people wait for the first off-peak bus of the day. They smile into the February sunlight, their eyes screwed up happily. Warmth and sun are everything as you get older. One warm morning pays for all. A woman in a red corduroy coat, eating an apple.
“Anyway, as long as you can get about–”
“It’s something, isn’t it, yes.”
The sun down one side of my jaw, like a poultice.
“Turned out nice again!”