It was a brisk fall day, the weather cool but clear. The sky was pure robin's egg blue, studded here and there with small clouds like little fluffy cotton balls. The neighborhood was quiet with big oak trees lining the streets and shading the asphalt from the bright sunlight above.

  Mr. Wagner was eighty-three years old and had lived on the same street since he was twenty-three. He had bought his home, a small but comfortable cape cod style house, with his wife just after they got married. The house had cost him $4000, practically a King's ransom when you only were paid $2 an hour. But, he had worked hard and created a life for his family.

  Now that he had to use a walker to get around, his kids were begging him to sell the house. His modest home would easily fetch closer to $300,000 in the current housing market, a number so big it felt made up when he tried to match it up to his tiny three bedroom home.

  He often felt out of step with the rest of the world, lost in time, left behind while everyone else rushed forward. But, there were still some good things left in the world that he could understand.

  "Daniel, what in the world are you doing up there?" Mr. Wagner's reedy voice called out to the man on his roof.

  A handsome young man with a clean cut face, close cropped hair, and a leather tool belt slung around his hips looked up. He smiled wide and his face dimpled charmingly as he waved down at the old man.

  "Mr. Wagner! Did you know you have a broken shingle up here?" he called down.

  Daniel was a nice young man. He did all kinds of work for Mr. Wagner without being asked. He had resealed his driveway last fall and reseeded his lawn in the spring. It gave Mr. Wagner hope for the future. If young people still took care of the elderly, still went out of the way to help people in their community, then maybe the world wasn't such a cold lonely place after all.

  "Young man, it's dangerous up there! Besides, I can't afford to pay for you to repair my roof!" Mr. Wagner called up, frowning with bushy eyebrows into the bright afternoon sun.

  But, the young man on his roof waved it away. "Not at all! It's just one shingle and I had leftovers from another job. You don't owe me anything."

  He smiled warmly down at the old man clutching his walker. Mr. Wagner pressed a shaking hand over his narrow chest, over his heart. What a kind young man.

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  After Daniel finished replacing the shingle, Mr. Wagner invited him inside for some coffee and a late lunch. It was the least he could do.

  "It's important to replace damaged shingles when you see them," Daniel said seriously as he ate a chicken salad sandwich off of the scratched old Formica tabletop. "If water gets below the waterproof seal, it can do real damage to the structure of your roof."

  "Of course you're right," Mr. Wagner nodded along, although mentally he wondered if Daniel really expected him to ever see his own roof again beyond what he could see from the street below.

  "Have you noticed any bubbling of the paint on the second floor?" Daniel asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

  "I haven't been upstairs lately," Mr. Wagner said slowly. He didn't admit that he couldn't make it up the stairs anymore, even if he held on tight to the railings. His daughter had helped him move his bedroom downstairs last summer and he hadn't been up to the second floor since.

  Daniel nodded and said, "I'll go up and check later."

  "You mostly work in this neighborhood, right, Daniel?" Mr. Wagner asked, sipping at his own coffee, his sandwich mostly untouched. His appetite wasn't what it used to be.

  "Yes, sir," Daniel smiled. "Though, of course, I go wherever I'm needed."

  "Of course," Mr. Wagner agreed, nodding mildly. "I just wanted to warn you to be careful. I heard from Mrs. Eisen that someone broke into the Morris house a few blocks down," Mr. Wagner said from under a beetled brow.

  "Oh no! That's terrible!" Daniel exclaimed. "Who would do such a thing?"

  "It wasn't just them, either," Mr. Wagner said, leaning across the beaten counter top. "I heard that the Bandersaw's have also seen a prowler hanging around the daughter's window, if you can believe it!"

  "That's disgusting," Daniel spat with venom.

  "And then poor Mrs. Lingom," Mr. Wagner added with a slow sad shake of his head.

  "I heard," Daniel agreed with a sad down at his shoes. "It's really a shame what happened to her house. But, at least she's going to move in with her son and his family. That's probably for the best."

  "I don't know," Mr. Wagner said with a sad shake of his head. "But, you've got to be careful these days. There's a lot of desperate people out there."

  "That's true," Daniel said with a thoughtful nod. "People are desperate for help. Maybe if they get the help they need, things will be better..."

  Mr. Wagner frowned a little at that. "Well, yes, I suppose. But that's not really-"

  "Thank you for your warning, sir. You're very thoughtful to worry about me," Daniel interrupted him to say with a dazzling grin.

  It was Mr. Wagner's turn to wave the thanks away. "It's the least I could do for all the help you give me," he demurred.

  With a blinding white smile, Daniel knocked back the rest of his coffee and thoughtfully loaded both his cup and plate into Mr. Wagner's dishwasher.

  "Thanks again for the lunch, Mr. Wagner!" he said brightly. "But, I've got to be off! There's a clogged toilet at Linda Batters that is calling my name."

  With that, Daniel winked and let himself out the back door with a clatter.

  Mr. Wagner sipped from his coffee and frowned at Daniel's back as it disappeared down the alley.

  "What an odd boy," he muttered to himself. Then, he cleaned away his own dishes, throwing away most of his chicken salad sandwich, and settled himself in his recliner to watch some Jeopardy.