Chapter 52. Selling

Well, maybe not everyone could drive by a person who needed help in the middle of nowhere. This old man with shaky hands, like autumn leaves in a gentle breeze, drove an old truck that groaned with each turn of the wheel, finally decided to give Tyler a lift to the eatery.

It could be that the old man had decided that he had lived enough and had seen everything life has to offer him that even if anything were to happen to him, he did not mind, or that he saw the kind of car he was driving, saw his own pocket, and thought no one would have wanted to kidnap or hurt an old man like him.

In his truck, as he drove slowly, in the space of one minute, he had already asked Tyler more than fifty questions. From what his name was, to how old he was, to if he had a wife or children, and many others, Tyler kept answering.

I knew how much Tyler hated too many questions flying at him in the space of seconds. If he had the choice, he would have nagged at the old man to keep his mouth sh