He always bought six bottles of five hour energy.
He smelled of old dippers, and he must have been somewhere between the age of 90-95.
I called him Mr. Smiles,
because every time I saw him at the Dollar Tree he conjured a smile across my face.
He wore loose suspenders with overworked brown loafers.
And with the exception of his energy drink obsession, he was a traditional old man.
He had this way of smacking his lips to account for every dollar he spent at the Dollar Tree.
Making sure to pay in exact change, he stood on tip toe and hunched his stomach forward as he reached into the bottom creases of his old khaki pants, they had a worn look to them.
Finally, before he left the casher with a uplifting "thank you", and an even more gladdening "you have a good day now", he ruffled through the candy bark selection and insisted on buying me his favorite piece.
I called him Mr. Smiles, because he never felled to stir up a smile in me.