I am old enough to be your grandfather, don’t notice it, but others do, but young people give up their seat on the subway and I get help crossing the street.
“Hold it, Mister. IT’S RED!”
I like the attention; guess it’s what being pretty is like.
Today, I’m sitting on the park bench near the high school. I look up from my paper; here comes the cheerleader and her man.
Ooh. Short skirt.
They want to neck on the bench.
There’s one space too few.
I lower my paper, take a peek, raise it, and keep reading.
Michael Drezin’s short stories and micro-fiction have been published internationally on the net and in print. Comments invited at NYCTstories@gmail.com