Michael laughed.
“I was terrible.”
“You were worse than terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“But you listened eventually.”
Michael looked toward Derek teaching a group across the mat.
“And him?”
Henry wrung out the cloth.
“Don’t know yet.”
Henry had started working at Riverside nearly two years earlier.
Michael never intended for him to clean anything.
Henry’s wife, Lorraine, had died after forty-six years of marriage.
Afterward, Henry stopped teaching.
Then stopped visiting friends.
Then stopped doing much of anything.
Michael began checking on him.
Henry hated that.
“I’m seventy-one, not seven.”
