Dear Evelyn: A Memoir

How you doin' tonight, sir? the man asked me shyly. He was around five–foot–eight, with sporadic gray hair and bushy eyebrows. His pant legs were ripped and caked with grime, his shirt thin and oversized. The woman standing next to him was short, right at five feet, with curly brown hair and a beautiful smile. She wore a bedraggled skirt smeared with mud, a white V–neck T–shirt and a thick, bright blue cardigan missing buttons. "My name is Evelyn," the woman said with her hand extended, "an...