I remember the days

I remember the days

fiction
edward w pritchard


I watched with alarm as the old Man switched his weight from the varnished walking stick to the armature device of the cash register there at the convenience store for support. The arm holding the credit card machine wasn't designed to hold a man's weight. He obviously had put on his best clothes for the journey here to the store but his shoes betrayed he had fallen on hard times.

The cashier was perfunctory as people are with older people. The man gave the lady too many quarters and some loose change to pay for the greeting card his only purchase and asked the lady for a white paper bag. The bored cashier gave him one of the old fashioned brown paper ones that they kept under the teller area.

Driving out of the parking lot later I noticed the old guy walking slowly up Tolbert's hill toward downtown Barberton gently clutching the bag with his purchase with his free arm as he clawed at the steep hilly road for support with his crooked brown walking stick.

Looking back in the rear view mirror at him one last time I wondered what the old guy was up to.