Cut to this morning. He's grown older [Full disclosure: so have I!] With difficulty, he's pushing his garbage bin down to the curb. He's using the handle of the bin to support himself like a walker. I debate offering to help. You know old men - they hate to be helped with a physical task. I pull one of my earbuds out.
He starts the conversation before I can. "Nice day for a run."
"I'm glad it's cooled off."
"I see you running all the time. Good for you." He manages to shove the garbage bin in place. "I just had a quintuple bypass. You'll never need one."
I don't know if he's lost his fangs or if they were never there in the first place.