Respectable

Just then, a nurse knocked on the open door. “Mr. Jones, you have three visitors waiting here for you. Would you like to see them?”

“Yeah, sure.” I responded to the nurse, not knowing what to expect. Three people? Who could it be? I looked at the doorway, not knowing who would enter.

The sound of heels against rubber flooring heralded the entrance of a woman with shoulder-length brown hair. My heart stopped. On top of typical office attire — blouse, blazer, skirt — she wore a pink trench coat, so light that it was almost white. Just the sight of that color wrung my heart. And though I had never seen those eyes and those lips form that worried expression, her face — her face — 

“Dawn!”