It was -40° out.
Everyone had rosy cheeks. He stepped in to the diner with the wind, the tails of his greatcoat reaching for the chair and sitting in it, leaving him to sit in the other seat. Reaching across the table, the man pulled a a notepad and pencil from the inner pocket of the coat and began to write. When the I came with a menu and the special, the coat declined with a low wave and offered the following note:
He ate and wrote as a continuous process while his coat lay mostly still. The strange couple seemed to remain seperate silent entities at the table. When he was done writing and eating, he left as abruptly as he came, only paying because the cuff of the coat slipped a bill under the coffee cup before rejoining the man to brave the cold. The coffee stands out as a detail to me; the only time the man ever spoke was to order a coffee for his coat. I didn't charge him for the second coffee at the time, though I did clear two empty cups.