“I thought you were the girl who comes and checks in on me.”
Once again, Rob nearly jumped in surprise. The voice emanated from the overstuffed chair, which was turned just enough from the light of the window that he had not noticed an occupant. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim interior and he could see an elderly man sitting in the chair and peering up at him. He wore faded blue-jeans, moccasins, and a gray sweatshirt with a logo on the front that was so cracked and worn with age that it was unidentifiable. The man still had his hair, which was white and combed mostly back with a few odd bits sticking out in different directions. His face was clean-shaven, though weathered and creased. It was thin like the rest of him but not skeletally gaunt like those of some men his age.
