by Edward Norton
Published by Ravensyard Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Edward Norton
About all you have left at the end are the memories and the fragments of dreams. The old man thought of that often. He shifted his weight from his painful hip. He was sitting in the elegant wingback chair he liked. It faced the window. The warm sunlight was comfortable. He could smell floor wax. The sun and the smell were pleasant. He liked the sunny days. He disliked the nights. The others, well, they had their flickering televisions.