Chapter Eighteen
“It’s time for me to be getting home,” muttered Miles before making a speedy exit.
Some friend.
“Red, get that thing away from me. Return it to the store at once. It’s a waste of your money. I’m not using it. I don’t need a walker.”
Red sighed. “Are you done? Spit out all your reasons for not wanting one? Good. First of all, I didn’t buy this walker. Carolyn Frances gave it to me straight out. Said her mama didn’t need it anymore.”
“Because her mama is dead! Who knows, maybe she tripped over the walker while trying to use it and that’s what killed her. I don’t want the thing. I don’t like it,” Myrtle glared at the offending walker.
“You’re being hardheaded. There’s nothing wrong with needing to stay a bit steadier on your feet. In my way of thinking, this walker will
