It was too cold for a tshirt and a hoodie. Crick in neck, she braved the wind a little, and tried to calm her nerves by smoking a cigarette. By then all the cottons she carried smelt of cigarette smoke. It was warm every where else, but San Francisco. She was woefully underprepared for what was to come.
The last two days were spent at the Fillmore jazz festival. San Francisco always had some event or the other going on. There were events to commemorate events. She was never one to commemorate anything, but didn't have any complaints. Except for the weather.