"Sir, you can't park here."
For the fifth time today, he said it, arms crossed, gradient brown retro glasses catching the sun. No uniform. No badge. Just a navy cap, black shirt, black shorts, and an air of purpose.
"Do you work here?" a vendor finally asked.
He smirked. "Something like that."
Minutes passed. A black SUV pulled up. No words, no hesitation. He slipped a folded note through the window. A hand took it. The SUV rolled away.
He exhaled, adjusting his glasses—then walked off like he was never there.
#WhatWasTheNote #retrovintage #lowbridgefit #mysteriousman
