Everyone in town knew old mister Crowford.
He was a sad but amiable man of sixty five, he worked in the local branch of the post office, and knew all his customers by name.
"Good morning miss Ramirez," he would say in his soft voice and comment on her blouse or her new scarf. He knew that Ramirez needed the encouragement at her attempts of post menopause attractiveness.
"Good afternoon mister Nolan," he would nod and and add something about the state of the pavements. He knew that Nolan was the chairman of a citizen's committee for dignified life.
It was, after all, the anniversary of the terrible accident.
He put the sign, went out, locked the door, buttoned up his overcoat, and got into his tiny Volkswagen.
"Mustn't be late," he muttered to himself as always, darting glances at his old styled wristwatch. He was never late.
"I missed you so much," said Henry, kissing her eyes.