This is a continuation of this story…
“Pizza anyone?” Mr. Walters slid the pizza onto the table. At 73, he was one of the more active individuals at the Brigadier’s house.
Johan dragged a huge slice onto his plate. He loves pizza, Gregory remembered.
It was a short while after he and Johan became friends that Gregory had treated him to dinner at the local pizza place. As he stood at the counter ordering toppings, he could feel Johan’s presence behind him, patiently and curiously watching.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at a table, a fresh hot pizza between them. It had pepperoni, olives and mushrooms. Johan had sat and watched how Gregory tore the pizza with his teeth and mimicked. Slowly, he made a face and began picking the mushrooms out of the pizza.
“You don’t like mushrooms, I see.” Johan shook his head and then gave a thumb up, signifying he liked the pizza.
“Would you like a slice, son?” Mr. Walter asked, snapping Gregory back to reality.
“Oh, yes, definitely.”