Drenferd wore a grey suit. He sat at a park bench eating his first ever hot dog. Despite his gray hair, now neatly trimmed and combed ala Dick Van Dyke, he looked boyish. He swung his feet back and forth, his legs too short to reach the ground.
A a dowdy mother and her lanky eight year old daughter walked by on their way to the art museum. The girl couldn't help but stare at the little man. Drenfern waved as he took his final bite of his Hebrew National. He tried to chew and smile, mustard on his chin. The girl turned her head sharply and giggled.
A ringing bike bell caught Dren's attention. He looked over his shoulder to see a mustachioed hipster pedaling ice cream from his trike. Drenfern lept off the bench and ran to young man and his frozen delights.