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I sat there listening to the old woman. Her cracked lips moved up and down while she spoke. She smiled gaily, recalling fond memories. I pulled the breasts of my jacket further in to protect me from the bitter cold of that San Francisco morning. I cautiously looked over my shoulder to make sure all was safe. I turned back to the old woman to concentrate on our conversion. Her puffy blue coat surrounded her torso and red wool shirt so that it looked as though she was caught in a cloud. The thin, tarp-like material of her olive-green pants rustled as she moved with excitement over the discussion of the Black Forest Cakes and tart green apples she had enjoyed as a young girl in Germany.
Approximate Word count = 491
Approximate Pages = 2
(250 words per page double spaced)
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