Gar was taking forver inside the tux shop. Just two days before the prom, he had tried on his tux only to find that the cummerbund didn't fit properly. Incensed, he had raged at the clerk (failing to hear his reassurances that they would make a small adjustment and everything would be fine) until Steve got so fed up he left.
Now outside in the warm spring air, Steve examined his surroundings. To his left - traffic coming down the busy road. Across the street, trees blocked his view of the pricey houses. To his right - best not to think of that now. Steve took out his phone, paging through his contacts to see if he could call anyone to kill time with for five minutes.
Inextricably, though, his eyes were drawn to his right. Alligretti's sign lights came on as he did, whether through divine providence or divine comedy, he didn't know.
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