Two

On a parking lot staircase I met two fine-looking men descending, both in slacks and dress shirts, neckties much alike, one of the men in his sixties, the other a good twenty years older, unsteady on his polished shoes, a son and his father, I knew from their looks, the son with his right hand on the handrail, the father, left hand on the left, and in the middle they were holding hands, and when I neared, they opened the simple gate of their interwoven fingers to let me pass, then reached out for each other and continued on.