
The shouting began in the bread aisle. An old man struck his cane against the fl…
The shouting began in the bread aisle. An old man struck his cane against the floor, and the sound silenced the store. A teenager froze. Everyone turned. My name’s George. I’m seventy-two. Vietnam vet. Widower. Most days, I keep to myself. Since Linda passed, the little house has been too quiet. I eat simple—soup, bread, […]