Mr. Jenkins disliked me on sight. That was surprising. I’m as pleasant as the next guy, and he couldn’t see well.
“I can smell a Jap a mile away,” he said. “How I survived.”
I ignored the slur. “Ready for your walk, sir?”
“You mean for my push?” He shrugged. “Sure.”
On the paved walk by the river, he said, “You’re not gonna drown me, are you?”
“No! Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I drowned a man once.”
“On the Burma Road.” He shook his head. “The war had its moments, but the pacing was terrible.”
I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #349 at Velvet Verbosity.