December 12, 2008
I was waiting to get my haircut yesterday in the small anteroom in the front when a very old gent appeared in the doorway. He came toward me hunched over with age with his eyes downcast and that shuffling gait of too small steps that has to be as painful as it looks. As he drew nigh, an old jingle ran through my mind: "Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down." I suppose I smiled because at that moment he looked up and our eyes met. He said not a word, but in his eyes I read his thought. I heard him say: "Don't be so quick to smile at me, stranger, you're next!"
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Last updated on December 12, 2008