This was third day in a row. Same time. John sitting at his window, fixed his gaze on the Patisserie across the lane. A bedraggled old man, probably in his sixties, bandaged arm and leg, body slumped as the lady handed him a brown packet. Without checking he shuffled away.
John was intrigued. Somehow the face seemed familiar. On day five, John sprinted across to the Patisserie and squatted behind the colourful dustbin. Sure enough around 6 pm the man appeared and was handed the bulging brown packet. John followed him, at a discreet distance, as they dragged on through alleys to the city park. The man squatted on a bench, furtively glancing around. One by one he peeled of his filthy bandages, wiped his face clean, stuffed his tattered coat into his cloth bag and combed his hair. A smirk. He took out the fresh Beignets, jam rolls and buns, a bottle of soda from the brown bag and proceeded to enjoy his meal.
John was flabbergasted. He was staring at his uncle Trevor, a healthy specimen if ever there was one, faking disability for a free meal.
John walked away confused whom to confront …his uncle or the kindly Patisserie owner.
John was intrigued. Somehow the face seemed familiar. On day five, John sprinted across to the Patisserie and squatted behind the colourful dustbin. Sure enough around 6 pm the man appeared and was handed the bulging brown packet. John followed him, at a discreet distance, as they dragged on through alleys to the city park. The man squatted on a bench, furtively glancing around. One by one he peeled of his filthy bandages, wiped his face clean, stuffed his tattered coat into his cloth bag and combed his hair. A smirk. He took out the fresh Beignets, jam rolls and buns, a bottle of soda from the brown bag and proceeded to enjoy his meal.
John was flabbergasted. He was staring at his uncle Trevor, a healthy specimen if ever there was one, faking disability for a free meal.
John walked away confused whom to confront …his uncle or the kindly Patisserie owner.
