The Potato Chip

There are some people we bond with and words can’t express why.  Joe is one such individual.  He is my co-pilot for art shows.  At 83 he accompanies me, helping me to set up and sell at the shows.  We joke that we can have any conversation we like because we can repeat them on the next trip having forgotten that we have already told them.  The Potato Chip was from a trip on the ferry while crossing the James River. The gulls followed, begging for any food.  Joe accommodated with his bag of chips.