fiction kinda

The Ferrari stopped and the tinted window opened to reveal an old man. He peered outside, staring at the old convenience store.  It is hard to discern any facial expression, almost impossible  to  read any thought.

But a young man from inside the store approaches with confidence.  He works at the store,  maybe owns it,  I see him there all the time,  tending the shelves.   He looks like the old man,  notsomuch in the shape of his chin, but in how he holds it up.

They make eye contact,  and though I can not read the face lined with wrinkles, I watch the younger face relax into joy.  He bows low, and then opens the door to the car.

There is a look here, between the two,  stronger than the tight hug that would have been if they were raised like me. 

The door is shut and the young man walks towards the store, leading the way.  The old man stops to pick up a piece of trash, and a leaf.  He drops them in the Ferrari window, still rolled down. 

This store is home, though he doesn’t live here anymore.
The car, just a rental. 
Inspired, prompted, by David Ellis.

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