HE CLOSED HIS MOUTH TIGHTLY. IT WAS OBVIOUS THE LAST SENTENCE DIDN’T COME OUT QUITE AS IT WAS SUPPOSED TO.
LARSEN SCRATCHED HIS HEAD AGAIN.
“UH, YEAH...YEAH, IT’S JUST...IT’S JUST WORK. KINDA STRESSFUL. I’M ON TOP OF IT, THOUGH. DON’T HAVE TIME TO HANG OUT WITH THE GUYS, Y’KNOW?”
HENDERSON SEEMED TO PONDER THIS FOR A MOMENT, GAZING INTO HIS NEIGHBOR’S EYES, SEARCHING FOR TRUTH.
“WELL, IF A JOB KEEPS YOU THIS STRESSED, MAYBE YOU SHOULD FIND ANOTHER FORM OF WORK THAT SUITS YOU,” HE SAID FINALLY.
LARSEN SMILED. THAT’S WHAT HE LIKED ABOUT HIS OLD NEIGHBOR; ALWAYS SPOKE HIS MIND, NO MATTER WHO HE WAS TALKING WITH, WHICH HAPPENED TO GET HIM IN TROUBLE WITH HIS WIFE QUITE A FEW TIMES.
“ANYWAY, ANGIE MADE YOU THESE...”
HE HELD OUT THE PLASTIC BAG, WHICH LARSEN TOOK GINGERLY. INSIDE WAS A LARGE ZIPLOCK BAG, FILLED CLOSE TO OVERFLOWING WITH CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES. THERE WAS ALSO A KNITTED PIECE OF PURPLE CLOTHING, SO TIGHTLY PACKED AND FOLDED IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO MAKE OUT WHAT IT WAS.
LARSEN SMILED WITH GRATITUDE.
“THANK YOU,” HE SAID.
THE OLD MAN SMILED BACK.
“YOU’RE WELCOME. SHE KNEW THAT WOULD CHEER YOU UP. OH, AND THAT’S A SWEATER. IT’S GOT YOUR INITIALS ON IT.”
Caption this Meme
