100 Word Story:
The mirror showed a brand new wrinkle on his old face. He looked at his watch. 11.40 pm.
A button was missing on his shirt. He took a sew kit and sat in his rocking chair regretting not switching the light on first. Instinctively, he called out for his daughter realizing halfway that she won’t come. Nobody would come.
Sighing, he put on the shirt unchecked. 11.50pm.
He limped through the spasms of pain, dragging his arthritis knee forward.
A candle for the darkness.
A knife for hope, he thought.
He clapped his hands. 12. midnight.
“Happy birthday to me!”
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