From where he sat, cap half-lowered, Ricardo observed the woman pace and talk on the phone. A few times she looked on the verge of tears; a few others, on the verge of murder. He couldn’t fathom what kind of news caused such conflicting emotions.
A guy walked by and stared a little too hard at him. Ricardo shifted, braced his elbow on his knee, his chin on his fist, and angled his head to the side. From the corner of his eye, he waited for the feet to move away, exhaling a breath of relief when they did. The woman stood a little farther, now staring down at her phone, a crease between her eyebrows. She was upset, but her shoulders were thrown back, her posture stiff. A battle stance. Was there a soldier underneath those feminine curves?
She was refined, a lady dressed in fashionable clot
