With a foggy mind, a body riddled with pain and stiffened by time, the old man manages to get himself out of bed, with his classical music playing he shuffles off to make his coffee, hands shaking and weak, he manages to brush out his hair, then he shuffles to his chair where he lowers his weary body, knowing the sun is up he could careless about going outside, for the world cares not for him, with hunger in is stomach he just sits and stares until his coffee is ready, barely able to pour a cup he does, back in his chair he thinks would another pitiful day he has to endure.

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