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The Old Man's Legacy
The old man lay in bed, barely holding on. His breath was weak, his body still. His sunken eyes flickered with something, like he had one last thing to say.
Thomas sat beside him, gripping his father’s thin hand.
"Don’t talk, Father. Just rest," he said softly.
The old man shook his head. "No, son. I have to tell you this. My last lesson. Listen up."
Thomas leaned in, his throat tight.
His father took a slow, rattling breath. "If you ever see someone in trouble… " He paused for effect. "Stop and stare."
Silence.
Thomas blinked. "Huh?"
"Stop. And. Stare," his father repeated. "No matter how bad it looks, don’t rush in. Just watch. But.. " he lifted a frail finger.. "never actually help."
Thomas frowned. "That makes no sense."
The old man waved a shaky hand. "Let me finish."
Thomas sighed but nodded.
"If you see a guy collapse in the street, don’t panic. Just stop. Not too close.. then you might have to do something. Not too far.. you still wanna look concerned. Just… the right distance. Then, tilt your head. Maybe rub your chin. Makes you seem thoughtful."
Thomas stared. "I should… just stand there?"
"Exactly." His father gave a weak nod. "Then, when someone else shows up, look at them, then back at the guy on the ground, and say, ‘That’s something, isn’t it?’"
"...That’s all?"
"That’s all." The old man coughed, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "If they say, ‘Should we help?’ just sigh real deep and say, ‘Yeah… someone really should do something.’ But don’t move. Stay put. Like a tree."
Thomas rubbed his temples. "And if they ask me directly to help?"
"Ah." His father’s eyes twinkled. "That’s when you pull out The Gentle Deflection. Raise your hands a little, like you’re pushing away responsibility, and say, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t wanna make things worse.’ That way, you sound caring. Not… you know. Useless."
Thomas was speechless.
His father continued. "If they push harder, pat your pockets, look all stressed, and mumble, ‘I really should be getting to work.’ Doesn’t matter if it’s midnight. Just say it like it’s true."
Thomas let out a slow breath. "...And if a crowd forms?"
"Then you become The Concerned Eyewitness," the old man said weakly. "Mumble things like, ‘I saw him fall, but, uh, I didn’t wanna interfere.’ Or, ‘Happened so fast… was just about to step in.’ This makes it seem like you were involved. Without, you know. Actually doing anything."
"...And if the cops show up?"
His father’s face brightened, like he was proud of this part. "Now, this is key. Step forward juuuust enough to be noticed.. but not enough to be asked questions. Say something vague, like, ‘He was already like that when I got here.’ Then.. listen carefully.. start backing away. Slowly. No sudden movements. Just… fade into the background."
His breath was growing weaker, but his expression was peaceful.
"Son," he whispered, "a wise man does not act. A wise man observes. A wise man lets others take the lead.. so if things go wrong, it’s their problem."
Thomas just stared at him. "...That’s literally just being completely useless."
A tiny smile formed on the old man’s lips. "Exactly."
And with that, he let out one last breath, that little smirk still on his face.
Thomas sat there, stunned. His father was gone. But his words… oh, his words would haunt him forever.
The Baron
The old man lay in bed, barely holding on. His breath was weak, his body still. His sunken eyes flickered with something, like he had one last thing to say.
Thomas sat beside him, gripping his father’s thin hand.
"Don’t talk, Father. Just rest," he said softly.
The old man shook his head. "No, son. I have to tell you this. My last lesson. Listen up."
Thomas leaned in, his throat tight.
His father took a slow, rattling breath. "If you ever see someone in trouble… " He paused for effect. "Stop and stare."
Silence.
Thomas blinked. "Huh?"
"Stop. And. Stare," his father repeated. "No matter how bad it looks, don’t rush in. Just watch. But.. " he lifted a frail finger.. "never actually help."
Thomas frowned. "That makes no sense."
The old man waved a shaky hand. "Let me finish."
Thomas sighed but nodded.
"If you see a guy collapse in the street, don’t panic. Just stop. Not too close.. then you might have to do something. Not too far.. you still wanna look concerned. Just… the right distance. Then, tilt your head. Maybe rub your chin. Makes you seem thoughtful."
Thomas stared. "I should… just stand there?"
"Exactly." His father gave a weak nod. "Then, when someone else shows up, look at them, then back at the guy on the ground, and say, ‘That’s something, isn’t it?’"
"...That’s all?"
"That’s all." The old man coughed, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "If they say, ‘Should we help?’ just sigh real deep and say, ‘Yeah… someone really should do something.’ But don’t move. Stay put. Like a tree."
Thomas rubbed his temples. "And if they ask me directly to help?"
"Ah." His father’s eyes twinkled. "That’s when you pull out The Gentle Deflection. Raise your hands a little, like you’re pushing away responsibility, and say, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t wanna make things worse.’ That way, you sound caring. Not… you know. Useless."
Thomas was speechless.
His father continued. "If they push harder, pat your pockets, look all stressed, and mumble, ‘I really should be getting to work.’ Doesn’t matter if it’s midnight. Just say it like it’s true."
Thomas let out a slow breath. "...And if a crowd forms?"
"Then you become The Concerned Eyewitness," the old man said weakly. "Mumble things like, ‘I saw him fall, but, uh, I didn’t wanna interfere.’ Or, ‘Happened so fast… was just about to step in.’ This makes it seem like you were involved. Without, you know. Actually doing anything."
"...And if the cops show up?"
His father’s face brightened, like he was proud of this part. "Now, this is key. Step forward juuuust enough to be noticed.. but not enough to be asked questions. Say something vague, like, ‘He was already like that when I got here.’ Then.. listen carefully.. start backing away. Slowly. No sudden movements. Just… fade into the background."
His breath was growing weaker, but his expression was peaceful.
"Son," he whispered, "a wise man does not act. A wise man observes. A wise man lets others take the lead.. so if things go wrong, it’s their problem."
Thomas just stared at him. "...That’s literally just being completely useless."
A tiny smile formed on the old man’s lips. "Exactly."
And with that, he let out one last breath, that little smirk still on his face.
Thomas sat there, stunned. His father was gone. But his words… oh, his words would haunt him forever.
The Baron
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