on two old souls outside of the cobbler

magic cream and mall memories

Colonel? Hey, Colonel!

I resisted the urge to yell. My mall-shouting days were thankfully behind me. Instead, I aimed for projection. My voice bounced off the food court chatter and, apparently, off the Colonel himself.

Mostly.

Dad had spotted The Colonel, who was moving with the speed and grace of a glacier calving, his cane tapping a slow rhythm. Dad, bless his heart, was on a mission, his knee brace doing its best to keep up. Our pursuit took us past the flashing screens of the phone store, the tempting smells of the drugstore, and around the bend where the ghost of Winners still lingered. It felt like we were in a slow-motion chase scene from an old movie, Dad’s determined hobble just barely gaining on the Colonel’s steady amble.

We finally intercepted him near the cobbler – a fitting location for two old souls who’d seen enough wear and tear to appreciate a good repair job.

How are things Colonel?

Not too bad. Still moving. How’s the knee Jimmy?

It’s still moving too colonel. You’ve met…