I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...
He settles into the antiquated rocker, leans his head against the multi-hued afghan. Flooding memories actualize in a single tear that slides down his pale cheek. The epic games of cribbage at the dining room table. The cries of anger from the den after an interception. The whistling of Lara’s Theme from the kitchen. He rubs his clammy palms along the smooth finished maple. The chair and he glide along the squeaking joints of the hardwood. For a moment, he pinpoints those elusive feelings. Of warmth and safety, joy and peace. They are fleeting, mere wisps of what was. All that now remains is the rhythmic undulation of the pendulous rocker.
He settles into the antiquated rocker, leans his head against the multi-hued afghan. Flooding memories actualize in a single tear that slides down his pale cheek. The epic games of cribbage at the dining room table. The cries of anger from the den after an interception. The whistling of Lara’s Theme from the kitchen. He rubs his clammy palms along the smooth finished maple. The chair and he glide along the squeaking joints of the hardwood. For a moment, he pinpoints those elusive feelings. Of warmth and safety, joy and peace. They are fleeting, mere wisps of what was. All that now remains is the rhythmic undulation of the pendulous rocker.
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