Chiblingbaby

Knock, knock, knock. The old man squinted at the door through his smudged reading glasses. The call came again. Knock, knock, knock. Frowning, the old man braced his palms against the arms of the faded sofa and hoisted himself to his feet. He tossed the newspaper he had been reading aside and shuffled toward the front door. He planted a red rimmed eye against the peephole then grunted and swung the door open. The postman held the day's mail and smiled as the door was opened in his face. "Afternoon, Mr. Wright," he said cheerily, tugging down on the brim of his blue hat. "Nice day, 'aint it?" The old man peeked his head outside the doorf