Once the cold metal of the bench was a shock. Now it's a pleasant surprise, even a familiar face. Jonas Manson had been coming here every Sunday since he turned 80 without fail, after church. Yes, church. He was constantly telling his life stories to the other people in the care home's children, grandchildren and so on and so forth. He had been a good man. A good soul. He had cared for children in less wealthy countries. He had taught ethics in the universities of Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard and Tokyo. He could speak 8 languages. Never had he used an ounce of plastic or eaten an ounce of meat.
No one ever listened or believed him of course. But he carried on, trying to melt these icy hearts. He only ever had heard replies of "yes of course you have" and "would you like me to get the nurse?". But that was okay.
That was why he'd come to this bench. It had brought back many a memory, so now he was going to prove it. Prove his greatness.
YOU ARE READING
Guns in the Park
General Fiction"Mr Manson-" "PROFESSOR Manson, please." Jonas Manson has had a great life. He knows what he's done and he's proud of it. He taught many students the value of ethics. The melted ice cold hearts. He even saved lives. Problem is, no one can remember t...
