One Small Act
“Oh no!” I turn to look at the old man behind the wheel. “My granddaddy would be rolling over in his grave if he knew.” He turns to me briefly while keeping his eyes on the road. “I just realized I never asked you for your name, and that goes against my upbringing and is so inconsiderate.” I smile at the kind old man. “No worries. I didn’t ask you for yours either. You can call me Cynthia.” Not technically my name, but I am beyond proud that I thought up a name on the spot like that and that I didn’t technically lie to the nice man. I only said he could call me by that name; I never actually said that it was my own though. He smiles, and I can’t help feel just a little bad that I couldn’t be honest with a man who has been nothing but kind to
- Writer
