The Patron Saint of Impossible Causes

It was the last day of the tour. Just cool enough outside to make you shiver and zip up your jacket. June in the Bay Area was like that, warm sunny days preceded by heavy coat mornings. I hadn’t put mine on, because I knew I’d only take it off later and have to lug it around. I’d folded it into my suitcase, and put an extra sweater in my backpack for the flight home. I kept warm in the lobby, by the door. My passengers were trickling out of the hotel and onto the bus.