I only wanted somewhere to sit until the dizziness passed, with my blind Chihuahua curled beside me.
Instead, a simple cup of coffee turned into one of the most humiliating encounters I’d had in years.
Then a stranger stepped forward and asked the café owner one question.
“Christopher, does the name Victoria mean anything to you?”
The man’s face lost all its color.
And suddenly, everything changed.
Twenty minutes earlier, Christopher hadn’t cared who I was.
That was the part I would remember most.
My name is Carol.
I’m seventy-four
