Bean Soup

Bean Soup

On the night of his death, Jeff cooked bean soup.

On the night of his death, Jeff cooked bean soup for supper. His wife chose not to partake, but his son ate it up.

Jeff had recently accomplished a major overhaul of his home,

which gave his family the room to grow that he and his wife had been craving.

For the moment, it was more room than they needed, and the debt was a strain on family finances. Jeff, however,

had found a clever solution. He meticulously spruced up the new, clean, bright rooms, and posted

them to a website for overnight rentals. Jeff's biggest financial overreach was the cottage in the

yard. The very moment he felt it was habitable, renters lined up to pay handsomely for the cottage's simple charms and

privacy. By 6 p.m. on the night of the Bean soup, the very first guest showed up to rent

the cottage. He seemed genuinely tempted to join Jeff and his son at the table and finish

off the rest of the soup that his wife had declined in favor of an early bedtime.

The renter was a somewhat burnt-out looking hippie.

He seemed reluctant to enter into any situation that may have compelled him to disclose his reasons for being in town.

Jeff did not wish to pry, and he did not wish to put the man in an awkward position.

He showed him to the cottage and gave him a key, mentioning that if he wanted some soup,

it would be in the fridge.

By the time Jeff had left the little house for his back door, the man had already retired to the bed

and seemed to be dozing above the blankets, having removed only his shoes.

He seemed truly at peace. It did Jeff no small

amount of good to see a stranger enjoying the tiny house he'd built. He smiled and cracked open a beer

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