Donut Man
Nicky and I were eating kolaches the other morning at Westco Donut. He was finishing his chocolate milk and I was sipping coffee when the old Chevy pulled right up to the front window, blocking in about three parking spaces.
“We See” said the vanity license plate. A man struggled out of the driver’s seat, thin, frail, probably 85 to 90 years old. He shuffled inside and Nicky turned around.
“Dad! That man’s old!” Nicky stage-whispered.
I shushed him unneccesarily. The old guy couldn’t hear us.
He shuffled up to the counter, oblivious to another customer ahead of him. The woman behind the counter put a single glazed donut in a bag and handed it to him. He took the bag, turned and shuffled back out the door. Neither one of them said a word. No money changed hands.
He backed out of the lot and was gone.
→ B.Dunn, Jun 17, 2005, 09 30 am
