He half dragged himself across the street, shoulders sagging under the long coat. Two girls moved several steps away.

We exchanged nods and closed-mouthed smiles as he glanced my way. The bench shook slightly as he let himself drop. “It’s been a long day.” His voice sounded like it. “But we made it through.”

I nodded in agreement.

He saw the girls, phones out. One had a finger poised on her phone screen, the other talking to someone. They both kept glancing our way. He ran a hand over his head of short, tight curls. Nails perfectly trimmed, the skin smooth, smoother than mine even.

“You know what I need?”

I looked at him.

“I need me a woman. A young one.”

I could see the muscles around his mouth twitching. Looking forward, I could see the two girls out of the corner of my eye huddled together. I nodded my head in reply.

“Nothing like finding a young one. Sweeping them away. Training them up the way you want them.” He stared at the street.

The girls moved away. “Dr. Farra!” We both looked at the woman in floral printed scrubs racing across the street.

“Nancy?”

“Jerry is getting a taxi now. Get to the hospital. An elderly lady fell and hit her head and they called for you.”

Dr. Farra was no longer tired as he ran across the street.

The girls glanced at me and I smiled back. They turned away, ashamed at their thoughts. Shame can be a great lesson.

© 2014-2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.