The old man stares torpidly into the distance, his head held at an odd angle. Perhaps not really held so much as left there to hang. He doesn�t appear to have the strength to hold it up. His body and face are sunken; the emaciation of the old, and his head can only hold on to a few stray hairs, like sirus clouds. Dolefully he stares, unmoved from where he has been abandoned by the nurse in his wheelchair.
If you didn�t have money and you had to grow old and die somewhere, this was as fair a place as any. The staff was kind and attentive for the most part, and the place wasn�t exactly decorated, but you could bring almost anything of your own that you wanted, as long as it could fit in the 22x18ft room without giving the staff a problem. He�s seen people expire in worse. His room doesn�t have much in it.
David� David, that�s his name. It took him longer to recall it today than it did yesterday. The effort is exhausting, but he doesn�t move. He has nowhere to go.
Like a victorious king, a new insurgent sweeps into the room. The fly goes on a cursory circuit about and between and over David�s things, at last deciding that they are beneath it. It lands on the window frame. Directly in the path of David�s line of sight.
Bzzzzbzzz�
�Shut up,� David mutters belatedly. A beat, two, three, four, �Shut up! God-damned-blasted- Nurse!� With effort, he grasps for the call button, eyes searching wildly for the invader.
�Nurse! Nurse, there�s someone in my room! �Nurse!�
At last the old fellow�s eyes land on the insect, and he falls silent. He squints hard, trying to see it. �Little bastard,� he whispers hoarsely, spitting. �You� why are you here? How dare you come here? I suppose you think you�re smart. Breaking in on an old man. Making him feel insecure. Well, I am secure. I am. I am!� He stops for a moment, jaw waggling, trying to regain control of its spasms.
�You don�t know the half of it. What it�s like here. Surrounded by- by OLD people! Your hear me, Frank!? You�re OLD!�
The man shuffling his way down the hallways turns to look in the room. �So�re you,� he replies obstinately, with no patience for the other man�s shit. Resolutely, he continues his measured shuffle.
David stares again at the wall, jaw working slowly. �Bloody-damned� you dunno what it�s like to be left somewhere, do you?� His gaze lands again on the fly. �Left here, all by yourself in this god forsaken hellhole. People always coddling you� they treat us like babies. Can�t walk� can�t talk� Can�t think! They treat us like we dunno how to think! Like we�re stupid! Like we like that! It�s- it�s damned insulting. You know that? I am� insulted. I�m� I�m damned� insulted. Being here. I am. I�m insulted��
�How are you feeling Mr. Bennet?� a chipper woman comes in wearing the pink-rimmed pin of nursing home staff.
David mumbles incoherently.
�That�s good, she smiles, taking the handles of his wheelchair. Her calm manner is taught to be soothing. �Come along, it�s time for your afternoon medicines anyway.�
The wheelchair squeaks every time the wheel turns, and, uninhibited, the fly does what he does best. He flies.
