She parks in the first spot outside Arby’s, and he waits patiently in the passenger side, readying his oxygen tank as she comes slowly around the long Buick. She wrestles with his walker, which seems to want to stay in the backseat. He makes loops with the tube between his nose and the tank, he adjusts the shoulder strap, he nods patiently as she exclaims something just before the walker comes free. She unfolds it to stay upright, soft cloth over the places where he will rest his hands, then opens his door and helps him out. A gust of wind blows her grey curls, but she secures him before patting her hair back into place. He begins his slow trek inside as she locks the door and shuts it. She peers at the car to be sure everything is in order, then takes two quick steps to catch up.