Old Man (descriptive snippet)


He had grown weary over the years. Each morning, after he’d brushed his teeth and said good morning to the oak tree outside, he would examine himself in the mirror. Perhaps a new crease, a new stretch, a new frown mark would have made an appearance overnight. Perhaps his skin would appear more weathered, or his hands would feel more numb than usual. He had befriended loneliness for years, so there was no other being with which to check or confirm any changes in appearance. As he sat for breakfast, a plate of seeded toast balanced on his knees, he would daily remind himself that to be alone was acceptable. He felt as though he didn’t need love, yet his heart told him he did. His extremities shook now and as he positioned his tie just so in the mirror, he told himself that he didn’t need any help.

His body told him otherwise.


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