the wide window

I'm writing a scene in which Dorina and the narrator are sitting at a little round table on the upper level of a coffee shop that is closed. Yet there they are, sitting there, all to themselves, watching through this window, a funeral procession for a person they knew but never met.

Last night I wrote a chunk of the dialogue, but then I was too tired, and I fell asleep with my desk lamp still on. Tonight I took that dialogue, rearranged it and refined it a little.