Michael doesn’t look much like a Mormon. All his clothes are more than one size too big for him; the floppy old t-shirt, outdated black jeans, and unflattering, hair-smothering hat look like they came from Goodwill. His off-brand Chuck Taylor lookalikes are more than a decade old. He’s a frumpy relic from the 90s.
“It’s gonna rain soon,” he says, attention on his fries. “Being hungry and wet would really suck.”
There aren’t many clouds overhead. It had showered earlier in the day, but nothing much was predicted for the evening or morning.