The car pulled away from the curb and slid into the afternoon traffic.

I squeezed the damp folded napkin tighter.

I watched his hand settle on her waist as they walked off down the boutique sidewalk.

The damp cotton turned cool against my palm.

I dropped the white cloth into the nearest city trash can and walked to my own car.

At nine the next morning, the heavy oak door of the law office clicked closed behind me.

David was sitting behind his mahogany desk.