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Weekly Contest #337
It was a rainy, dark night the first time I met Billy. The late-night coffee shop, with its 19th-century lamps illuminating the old carpets displayed on the walls, exhaled an aroma of timelessness. I was drinking a hot chai, which was slightly spicier than what I usually like, when he came through the door. A short old man, with a sweet, mischievous gaze that spoke of a kind of humor only gained through decades of watching your worries fall inside the cabinet of silly neuroses. I first noticed how curious it was that, despite his aged body, ...
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