patrickbentley Uncategorized

Met a man at doors. I could tell straight away he was very unwell. The poor man was gasping for air as he struggled to even keep his oxygen mask up to his face. I stood back, my first thought being, maybe it would be better all around if I left this man go back to resting.
But to my surprise, he said: ‘You’re young Bentley? You don’t remember me. do you?’ he gasped. ‘No,’ I replied, now feeling less anxious.
He took another deep breath before saying:
‘I used to feed you bread when you were a kid. You’d hardly remember that. But I knew you were hungry, and me being a bread man, sure I had plenty to spare,’ he said, now trying to smile between gasps.
He then surprised me further by saying: ‘I read your last book. Would you like to come in and tell me about that book you’re holding?’
I walked slowly into the hallway.
‘You read my book?’ I said with a smile.
‘Oh, yeah. Very good. You should be so proud of yourself.’
‘Well. . . Pride isn’t something I care for. But I’m thankful, if you know what I mean.’
To be continued……..