8 Chapter 8

“Nothing much,” he replied. “Just the usual. A sleep in, a bit of cleaning, some television. ”

Mr Wiggins grunted and shuffled into the back room.

“I’ll see you,” Alexander called out as he carried the box of mail towards the door.

There was no reply.

That morning Lester Moore was waiting at his mailbox as usual, but there was nothing but junk mail for him.

“How are you today, Mr Moore?” Alexander asked.

Mr Moore coughed. “Not too well, actually, but thank you all the same for asking.”

“Getting a cold?” asked Alexander, as he readied himself to take off.

“I’m not sure,” Mr Moore replied. “Just a general malaise. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Alexander nodded and, despite himself, felt a twinge of sympathy for the elderly man.

“So when are we going to have that coffee?” Mr Moore asked with a weak smile.

Alexander gripped both handlebars of his bicycle and pushed off. “Not sure, Mr Moore. Better go. Mail to deliver.”