Before I know it, she has skiddled across the parking lot and in between the cars, and people behind me, with that kind of usual religious charity that the holidays bring us, wah-wah wah-wah. "I'm coming." Italian hand signals follow. I scoot over. I close the door.
En menos de lo esperado, ha recorrido el estacionamiento y entre los carros, personas atrás de mi con esa habitual caridad religiosa que nos traen los días festivos, wah-wah wah-wah. "Ya voy".