Well, the circus is in town, and he's in it. Susie Neruda took her nieces and nephews yesterday and recognized him. She just called me. Then he paused. For this, I'll ignore everything in my peripheral vision.
Next show's in forty-five minutes.
I threw the antimacassar from the back of my office chair over them. Dr. Bob Oulijian, I mean. His father had managed two of them while Bob was trying to grow up. A noise dopplered up behind us, and a 1932 bucket-T roadster came by, piloted by a geezer in motorcycle goggles. We assumed he was French, maybe Belgian or Swiss, we didn't know, because he didn't talk.