The minivan with the exhausted dad: window perfect. He rested his elbow on the sill like it was made for him. “Double cheeseburger, small fry,” he mumbled, and Marcus passed the bag without either of them stretching. Comfortable. Invisible.
“Hold on,” he said. He stepped out onto the stool, bringing himself to the hearse’s window level. For the first time that night, he and a customer were face-to-face. drive thru window height
That explanation lasted about fifteen years. The minivan with the exhausted dad: window perfect