A couple of evenings ago, Carol and I happened to be walking along the platform of the San Mateo Caltrain station on our way home. A woman sat on one of the benches, talking on her cell phone while waiting for a train.
“Tell her that you’re not going to have to talk with the D.A.,” she said in a clear, penetrating voice.
On the next bench over, another woman huddled into her jacket.
“No, tell her that the D.A. isn’t going to press charges,” she said, louder this time. “Just tell her that, OK?”
We walked by. In a low voice, I said, “That’s not the kind of conversation I’d want to have in public.” Carol chuckled.