“He feels awful.”

I turned the key in the ignition and put the transmission in reverse.

Evening commuter traffic heading west to the suburbs was already stacking up at the expressway interchange.

I took the back roads, passing strip malls and auto repair shops until I came to the boulevard three miles from the highway on-ramp.

A green neon sign for a little drive-through coffee kiosk glowed against the gray afternoon sky.

I eased the sedan into the narrow drive-through lane and lowered the driver’s window.