the bags tore, spilling oranges across the concrete, I didn’t think; I simply ran over to help him gather the groceries and carry them inside.
His kitchen was a time capsule, smelling of cedar and stale tea. To my surprise, he didn’t just thank me and usher me out. Instead, he gestured toward a wooden chair and offered me a cup of coffee. I had a dozen errands to run and a million excuses ready, but something in his eyes made me pause. I stayed, and that hour-long conversation about
