We were stopped at a red light when a slightly disheveled woman crossed the street using the crosswalk just in front of my car. She looked to be young, mid-thirties maybe, and was carrying a tattered, balled-up, wooly blanket. It struck me as odd because she was carrying it much in the same way one might carry a swaddled infant, or a full porcelain punch bowl, across a room.
“Hmm, that looks a bit peculiar, don’t you think?”
The Brit brought his head forward off of the headrest in my front passenger seat and opened one eye to look, first at me and then at the woman. Having just arrived back from his two-week business trip the day before, his body was still on China time.
“What do you suppose she’s carrying in there? A baby?”
He opened his other eye. “Hmm. That…or maybe a small dog. [Pause.] Or a great big bunch of vegetables.”