Someone Your Age
A microfiction story in response to a weekly writing prompt.
This microfiction story was written in response to Chelsea Marie’s Fiction Writing Prompts — Week Thirteen under The Storyteller’s Vault.
The dapper, frail older gentleman dressed in a grey suit holding a walking cane approached the jogger sitting down on the wooden bench. It was the same person who rudely bumped into him five minutes ago without apologizing.
“Do you mind if I have a seat?” the gentlemen asked.
“It’s a free country,” the sweaty jogger murmured, moving slightly closer to the left.
“Thanks,” the gentleman sat down, placing the cane between himself and the jogger. “Name’s Russell Lawson.” He extended his wrinkled hand.
“Kevin,” the jogger returned, not moving a muscle, barely acknowledging the gesture.
Russell sat down on the bench. “Nice day we’re having today. Beautiful one, isn’t it?”
Kevin wiped his brow. “Whatever.”
“You’re looking pretty spry, young man.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re still getting around for someone your age.”
Russell nodded. “Well, I can take a hint.”