The sports car with the college kid: window too high. The kid had to unbuckle and half-rise from his bucket seat, fumbling cash with his fingertips. “Sorry,” he kept saying, as if the architecture were his fault.
When the hearse rolled to the window, Marcus saw the driver was a woman about his age. She had silver rings on every finger and a tired, beautiful face. She also had to lean way down to see him. drive thru window height
The woman blinked. Then she smiled—really smiled, the first genuine one Marcus had seen all shift. The sports car with the college kid: window too high
He didn’t measure the window again. It wasn’t forty-two inches, or low, or high. It was just a hole in the wall. And every night, someone new would pull up and teach him what the world looked like from their seat. When the hearse rolled to the window, Marcus