Mowing

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

He woke, sat up, coughed, fell back against his pillow. He was tired. Of being angry, useless, old. He rang the cow bell; his son entered.  

‘How you feelin, dad?’

‘I wanna mow.’

‘Is that a good idea?’

‘Yes’

His son didn’t argue.

He slowly washed, dressed, hobbled – all with help – to the shed. His son deposited him on the mower and set it in first gear.

Halfway across the lawn, he coughed violently. When the fit ceased, he slumped onto the steering wheel. His son ran over, cut the engine, and put him on the ground. There was no pulse.

His son smiled; a single tear streamed down his cheek.