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I'm 37 and I LOVE old people. Listening to their stories is like a living history lesson.
I'll never forget George Baker, who was my neighbor when I was a kid. He was 100 years old in 1995, if I'm not mistaken. He fought in the trenches of World War 1 and used to tell us stories about it. I remember sitting there transfixed listening to him. Good times.
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But the kid only spat into the darkness of the space between them. “I know your kind” he said. “What’s wrong with you is wrong all the way through you.”
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