“Fetch my slippers, would you?” the old woman rocked forward in the easy chair and pointed with her walking cane toward the clutter stacked on the other chair in the room. “Over there.”

He looked at her, then over to the clutter, and back to the old woman. “Did you check your feet yet? Looks like you already have on a pair of slippers.”

But she didn’t look, instead, she became agitated. “For cat’s sake, do I have to do everything myself? I’m an old woman and getting up out of this chair hurts. I get stiff from sitting, and don’t go telling me that’s why I should get up. You keep your rude comments to yourself.”

With a sigh, he walked over and reached out to give her a hand.

“No, I’ll just do it myself.”