A Hot Time in the Old Town

I stood, stretched. My vertebrae and shoulders popped like a string of firecrackers. "Maybe I should come with you this last time. You never know. Maybe I'll sense something you've missed."

The old man looked up at me, considering this. "Yeah," he said, "you might be right. If nothing else, some company would be a welcome change."

I reached out and helped him to his feet, his pale, blue-veined fingers practically engulfed by my strong, young, dark hand. We set off across the grass together, a cool afternoon breeze at our backs.


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