I stared at the old man for way too long. I couldn't help it; he was so dear, sitting in his car smoking a pipe. Bald and wrinkly, he appeared a little weak, his back bending him toward the steering wheel while he waited for his lady, or someone. The furrowed brow said curmudgeon, but the twinkly eyes said heart of gold. Exactly how I like 'em.
He turned and saw me. I looked away embarrassed.
I have a history...
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