He sat behind the steering wheel of the behemoth Ford. French Estelle sat close to him. She was the buttonhole operator at the menswear factory where they worked, her machine next to his. She preferred the zippers.
His daughter sat in back. She watched his intense eyes fix on hers in the rear-view mirror and she wondered if he suspected that she knew.
The girl watched Estelle work her father’s zipper. He pulled away. Estelle shrugged, then twisted round, Juicy Fruit gum in her hand. The girl thought of her mother in the hospital, who preferred peppermint.
“You like?” asked Estelle.