Oh Dear

"Oh dear!" I gasped as the car flew down the street, missing the old man by the smallest of margins. Puddle water flew in the air, covering us both on that saturated Saturday morning in May. It reminded me of the dust kicked up when a herd of horses trampled the ground back at the ranch.

The man continued moving forward, his pace more rapid, but still painfully slow. "Are you okay?" I called to him. He didn't even look up. Glancing down the street for more hot rod cars, I stepped off the curb and approached him. "Are you okay?" I said again.

He looked up. His body betrayed his age, his face looking so much younger than the rest of them. A school boy's charm peered at me under his heavy eye-lids. "I'm wet," he said in a thick voice while taking me in. "Just like you."

His head dropped and he began the arduous journey across the rest of the road. I followed his footsteps, wondering if I should just leave him alone. At the curb, he turned to me again. "I'm George. If you don't have anyplace else to be, there is a nice little coffee house just up the street. I'll buy you a coffee in return for your kindness."

My mouth parted before I could think of an excuse to decline his offer. "It's nice to meet you George. I'm Ally and I take my coffee with cream and sugar."

*** Daily Writing Practice ***