The mailman’s shoulders tensed, but he kept moving, head down, as if acknowledging them in any way would only make the encounter heavier. Two doors down, Mr. Campbell, our retired dentist, leaned casually against his garage door, smirking. “Hey there, buddy! You might want to pick up the pace a little. Mail doesn’t deliver itself, you know!” A group of teenagers pedaled by, laughing carelessly. One lanky boy muttered, “Bet he couldn’t afford to retire. That’s what happens when you don’t plan ahead.” Another snickered. “My dad says people like that made bad choices. That’s why they’re stuck doing grunt work.”Continue reading…
