In my youth, I used to bound down stairs like an olympian. But now my knees hurt. I reach the last of my basement steps with a sigh of relief, and reach for the light switch. That’s when I realize that the light switch is at the top of the stairs, as it has been for the past 40 years that I’ve lived in this house. My mind is staring to fade as well, but I never bounded anything with it, like I did the stairs with my knees.
By the time I force myself back up to the top of the stairs, I decide that whatever I needed wasn’t worth going back down for. I go to the living room and plop on the couch. My back now hurts as well. I grab the remote and turn on the TV, but nothing happens. The screen stays blank. I groan and press it a few more times before realizing that I had gone downstairs to get batteries for the remote.
I sit there for a moment, wondering what has happened to me. I used to be so spry, never wanting a wife or children. Now I sit here alone, full of fear and confusion and anger that can’t be saturated by my basic cable package. I try to sleep and I try to die, but nothing seems to work.
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