The Writer Meets Another Acquaintance
“Hello…Dr. Parks,” I said, stealing a glance at his nameplate. “My name is Aidan O’Callahan – I arrived only yesterday.”
Dr. Parks looked at me queerly, as if he were trying to remember something. “You don’t, by any chance, live in a big, stone house beside Mrs. McCarthy, do you?”
I was momentarily stunned before I answered the question. “As a matter of fact…I do,” I said, returning the gaze, if a bit hesitantly. “May I ask how you know that?”
“I remember you,” Dr. Parks said, brown eyes gleaming under his glasses. “You’re the one who used to climb the trees all the time.”
I gasped, taken aback at his statement.
“I used to be the boy down the street – “
“Davin Parks,” I murmured, crossing my hands over my chest. “Yeah, I remember you. Thin thing – black hair and brown eyes. You didn’t wear glasses back then, though.”
He laughed. “It’s something I’ve acquired of late.”
“Boy, it’s a really tight – knit community here.”
“You can say that again.”
Well, who would’ve expected that?