He looked and walked like a tough young hoodlum, his head wrapped in a mean black scarf on top of which sat a black broad-brimmed baseball cap with the brim turned to point backwards. He wore a black oversized sweatshirt inside a black oversized hooded jacket. From my vantage point I could see that his pants were black, as were his shoes. He looked mean as only a street gangster can. But he looked so very tender that instant that I caught him, oblivious to the world but his woman beside him as he gently placed a blanket on her to keep the late evening chills away.