Chapter 36

My first stop was Mr. Fellows. He was eight-nine years old, partially blind, and wheelchair bound. He was as sharp as a tack, though, and his hearing and sense of smell were pretty darned good.

“You smell like you’ve been outside most of the morning,” he said as I dusted around the living room.

“Yes, sir. Company had a picnic, so I made a brief appearance.” Sang like a fool. Made an ass of myself in front of my man-crush. Why did I care? I didn’t know, but likely, deep down, I did. I emptied a vase of dead flowers and hoped the evening meal delivery person would bring some fresh ones.

“You don’t sound too happy about that, son,” he replied, propelling the chair forward with a button to be closer to where I was now dusting his bookshelves.

“I’m not, Mr. F. but it’s over now, and I get to visit you, so that makes up for it.”