Man in the parking lot

He was a plump man, overweight and scruffy, wearing a plaid sweater-vest on a hot summer day. I don't think he could find his car 'cause he wandered with a queer look on his face. He wore no shirt under his wool vest; with buttons buldging over his belly. I wondered if his wife had left him, screaming from the doorframe to do his own damn laundry. Perhaps that vest was all that was left in the drawer, all that was left of her.