Sax Man

(Previous installment)

He crossed the four lanes and wide median of Wacker and descended the gentle incline toward Franklin, eyeing as he passed the sleek businessman's restaurant inside which busboys busily set up tables with white cloths and napkins for the coming lunch rush. He remembered back, before the glassy office tower was built, to the parking lot that occupied the site and the old attendant who regularly waved a greeting to Henry from the doorway of the cashier shack. Every now and then Henry would wander over, shake hands and idle away a few minutes in pleasant conversation. Smitty was a good man, Henry reflected, wondering where he was now.

(Next installment)