Jack, the old man of the town, was a pleasure to be around. His speach was seasoned with hyperboles. Such that got you laughing until your ribs hurt.
Our evenings were like dates with him at his old house. It was one with character just like the owner. The tales he told gave life to the old days. My ears were always hungry for whatever he had to share. Besides that, his cooking was unrivaled.
Sitting there, enjoying all he could offer, great memories were formed.
However, one memory stands out. The day I found Mr. Jack lying in a pool of blood. I still get nightmares about it. Investigations revealed that he’d been beaten using a bludgeon by one of the marauders in town.
His kind and warm heart deserved better than this gruesome exit from life.