Mr. King
“Mr. Wayne King was such a kind man, I came to realize. I had always thought him to be a bit peculiar, maybe lacking a small portion of the mind, but then I noticed that living with Amelia could do things to you. I picked up her terrible habit of chewing on my nails, and some days I realize that I simply don’t want to get out of bed, like Amelia, whom sleeps in past nine most mornings.
But Wayne was much different from her, so concealed within a head full of thoughts and ideas that he hardly realized that the world spun terribly fast outside the attic that he lived in. He was an old soul, a mere thirty eight, but should have been thirty eight thousand. Never had much to say, but when he did say something, anything, it was always the right thing. Some days he was a breath of fresh air to me, and I would join him in the attic for a cigarette or to watch him catch the birds that flock to his sill.”
