Written for the weekly Inspiration Monday challenge at BeKindRewrite Please do go and take a look at her site and the other marvelous writers who participate there.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Walk across the street. Introduce myself. Be courteous. Wait.
They said she was old, sick, without family. She would die soon.
The old lady talked. A lot.
She made tea each day before we sat in her lounge and whiled away the hours discussing her Uncle Bob, the worms in the garden or techniques to win crocheting competitions.
I was unemployed. She would die soon. Then I would not need to work again.
I am still unemployed a decade on. She cannot remember me. She still lives. She will die soon.