This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence but doesn’t climb over it. –Arthur Baer.
Harold was a man of precision. Every morning at exactly 6:00 a.m., his alarm would chirp, and he’d go for his walk off. But Harold’s schedule wasn’t about fitness or fresh air—it was about dodging his chatty neighbor, Bill. Bill could turn a casual “Good morning” into an hour-long TED Talk on tomato gardening, conspiracy theories, and who knows what else.
One fateful night, Harold, in a groggy haze, set his alarm for 6:00 p.m. instead of 6:00 a.m. The next morning, he woke up at 9:00 a.m. with a gasp.
“Oh no,” he muttered, looking out the window. The sun was too high. Bill was probably already out there… talking. Throwing on his clothes in record time, Harold bolted outside, determined to salvage his day. But it was a disaster from the start. His usual walking group had vanished, and instead of his usual quiet path, Harold was greeted by a dog that mistook him for a chew toy, a construction site detour, and—just to top it all off—he spilled hot coffee all over his shirt at the café.
Just as Harold thought his day couldn’t get any worse, he turned the corner—and there was Bill. Chatty, overly friendly, unstoppable Bill. Harold’s heart sank as Bill waved, already launching into a monologue about his new tomato trellis.
“Harold, my man! You won’t believe the size of these tomatoes! They’re practically the size of small pumpkins. And speaking of pumpkins, have you heard about the pumpkin festival this year? It’s gonna be a blast!”
Harold stood there, coffee-stained and barely listening, nodding as Bill droned on about everything under the sun. Bill seemed to cover every topic except giving Harold an exit strategy. After what felt like 12 years of non-stop chatter, Harold snapped.
“Bill, for the love of all that’s holy, stop talking! I’m covered in coffee; I’ve been chased by a dog, and I just want to go home.” There was a pause. Bill blinked. Harold braced himself for an awkward fallout. But then, something unexpected happened. Bill burst out laughing—a full, hearty belly laugh.
“Oh man, Harold! Why didn’t you just say so?” He wheezed between laughs. He fished around in his gym bag and pulled out a clean shirt. “Here, take this. Looks like you could use it more than I do.” Harold stood there, stunned, then started laughing too. He took the shirt, shook his head, and, feeling guilty, offered to buy Bill lunch as a peace offering.
Over lunch, they joked about the morning’s disasters. Bill, it turned out, knew he was a talker but never realized Harold was running a whole covert operation just to avoid him.
“You could’ve just told me to shut up years ago!” Bill teased.
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