A taxi honked at some poor soul waiting at a stoplight just a little too long. The brakes of a metrobus squealed as it rolled slowly along the street. Two men at the table at the other end of the sidewalk patio spoke to each other in Vietnamese as we ate our Phở.
A lady’s dog across the street snarled at a poodle walking by. A man at the Moroccan restaurant nearby stood proudly in his doorway anticipating the dinner rush. And as we sat there our shadows grew long, stretching across the table onto a planter of petunias and onto the sidewalk along P Street.
It wasn’t a bad way to end our trip, not a bad way at all.