(F.F.F. Website Story)
Old Mr. Verhein lived just up the street, a few houses from mine.
One day I waved, and he did too, but he looked as though something was wrong.
“Once I work in a steel mill. Dangerous place. One day I fall in vat of molten metal, and when they drab me out, I’m alive, but all changed. They gave me big pension, so am retired now, but I’ll soon be gone. You look.”
He pushed up his sleeve and I could see that the back of his right arm was rusting!
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Me too,” he sighed, sadly.