Ian worked steadily for all of three minutes.
"I sure am glad I'm not paying you by the hour," Mugs said.
Half of the photos were still carpeting the floor around Ian's feet.
"Mugs," the boy said.
"Huh?"
"Wow," said Ian, showing Mugs the photo that had held his attention. "There was a young Mugs in uniform standing in front of several metal quonset huts. You see combat, Mugs?"
Mugs stared at the boy, a funny look plastered on his aged face.
"The things I could tell you, boy."
Mugs shook his head slowly.
"Even then, nobody believed me when I told them," Mugs said.
"Told them what?" Ian asked.
"Come on, kid," said Mugs, stuffing the picture into his shirt pocket. "Let's take a break. I need some caffeine, and you look like you could use a jolt of refined sugar."
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Ficção GeralA young boy helps his elderly neighbor clean out the old man's house only to find out later that the aged man has vanished into thin air.
