Falconer+-+John+Cheever

Falconer 169
Farragut put his arms into the sleeves and settled the coat around
his shoulders. “Perfect, perfect,” exclaimed the stranger. “It’s a
perfect fit. You know, you look like a million dollars in that coat.
You look like you just deposited a million dollars in the bank and
was walking out of the bank, very slowly, you know, like you was
going to meet some broad in a very expensive restaurant and buy
her lunch. It’s a perfect fit.”
“Thank you very much,” said Farragut. He stood and shook the
stranger’s hand. “I’m getting off at the next stop.”
“Well, that’s all right,” said the stranger. “You got my telephone
number. I’m in from ten to four, maybe a little later. I don’t go
out for lunch, but don’t call me at my sister’s.”
Farragut walked to the front of the bus and got off at the next stop.
Stepping from the bus onto the street, he saw that he had lost his
fear of falling and all other fears of that nature. He held his head
high, his back straight, and walked along nicely. Rejoice, he
thought, rejoice.