“Mondays and Wednesdays I pick up something and we eat at the Poodle Factory. Tuesdays and Thursdays she brings our lunch to the bookstore. Fridays we generally go someplace ethnic and inexpensive and toss a coin for the check. All of this, of course, is subject to change if anything comes up, and Carolyn must have gathered that something had. It was a Wednesday, so when I’d failed to turn up around noon she’d evidently gone somewhere herself. The Poodle Factory was closed, with a cardboard sign... hanging on the back of the door. BACK AT, the sign said, and beneath it the movable clock hands pointed to one-thirty. I looked in at the coffee shop on the corner of Broadway but didn’t see her. There was a pay phone on the wall at the back but it looked a little too exposed. I walked north a block and checked the felafel place. She wasn’t there, either, but their pay phone was a little more private. I ordered a cup of coffee and a hummus sandwich. I wasn’t especially hungry but I hadn’t had anything since my roll for breakfast and figured I probably ought to eat.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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