His old bones cracked as his feet ever so lightly touched the cold oak floor. He slightly limped on his right leg as if it had been slightly wounded in a war with himself. He stumbled into the old maroon chair in the corner and as he fell upon it, dust burst a fury into the air. The man balanced himself onto the cushion of the chair and laid his head back. He let out a sigh of relief that he finally made his way to the chair. He stared blankly out of the window lightly caked with dirt and dust. The light barely shown through the thin layer of residue. Thick red drapes cascaded over the sides of the windows that were also filled with dust. It was as if he didn't have the strength to maintain his house, or to even move.
He slowly closed his wrinkled eye lids as a war tune escaped his lips. He quietly hummed and tapped his hand on the armrest of the old chair. More dust floated up and swam into the stale air. Some dust escaped into his lungs and he loudly gasped and choked on the air. He grew slightly paler but regained himself slowly and stopped tapping his hand. He rubbed his wrist with one hand to ease the pain of the tapping. He still hummed the war tune as he carefully rubbed his wrist with his frigid hands.
There was a soft knock at the front door and the mysterious person could not be seen from the window. He tightly grasped the arm of the chair and pushed his frail body up. He unsteadily pushed his weight toward the door and grasped the tarnished handle. He shifted all of his weight on the door knob and opened the door. The door opened with a little force and the hinges screamed loudly clashing with the crackle of dried paint. He squinted his faded blue eyes as the sunlight erupted into the house. He slowly looked around his front porch as he took in the fresh air. Not one person was in sight. He looked at the brownish-green door mat that had the word 'Welcome' strewn across it. He often questioned himself about the door mat because he never really felt like anyone was welcome to his house--or even if he was welcome into it.
A tiny piece of folded paper fluttered in the wind from beneath the dirty mat. He bent down painfully as his back popped and swiftly grabbed the paper so he wouldn't have to bend anymore. He regained his original posture and shut the door. He unfolded the now wrinkled paper and brought it closer and farther from his eyes. He silently folded the paper back up and grasped it in his hand as he snatched his eye glasses from the table. He blew carefully on the lenses and put them before his eyes. The only thing heard in the house was the paper crinkling while being unfolded. His eyes slid over the carefully placed letters on the paper. A glistening tear slid down down his powder-white cheek as a slight smile overcame his usual cowl. The letter got balled into his hand as he laughed a little. He dropped the letter onto the musty floor and renewed his position in his chair.
Thoughts raced through his head about his life. He thought about the times he spent with his family and if it was really worth him living or not. He didn't know why he was happy about the letter, or why it was sent to him without a person leaving it to him. He couldn't keep up with the pace of his thoughts. His mind wandered aimlessly and he didn't know whether or not laughing was appropriate. He stared at the crumpled ball on the floor. He wondered if smashing the paper was even right.
He slowly closed his wrinkled eye lids as a war tune escaped his lips. He quietly hummed and tapped his hand on the armrest of the old chair. More dust floated up and swam into the stale air. Some dust escaped into his lungs and he loudly gasped and choked on the air. He grew slightly paler but regained himself slowly and stopped tapping his hand. He rubbed his wrist with one hand to ease the pain of the tapping. He still hummed the war tune as he carefully rubbed his wrist with his frigid hands.
There was a soft knock at the front door and the mysterious person could not be seen from the window. He tightly grasped the arm of the chair and pushed his frail body up. He unsteadily pushed his weight toward the door and grasped the tarnished handle. He shifted all of his weight on the door knob and opened the door. The door opened with a little force and the hinges screamed loudly clashing with the crackle of dried paint. He squinted his faded blue eyes as the sunlight erupted into the house. He slowly looked around his front porch as he took in the fresh air. Not one person was in sight. He looked at the brownish-green door mat that had the word 'Welcome' strewn across it. He often questioned himself about the door mat because he never really felt like anyone was welcome to his house--or even if he was welcome into it.
A tiny piece of folded paper fluttered in the wind from beneath the dirty mat. He bent down painfully as his back popped and swiftly grabbed the paper so he wouldn't have to bend anymore. He regained his original posture and shut the door. He unfolded the now wrinkled paper and brought it closer and farther from his eyes. He silently folded the paper back up and grasped it in his hand as he snatched his eye glasses from the table. He blew carefully on the lenses and put them before his eyes. The only thing heard in the house was the paper crinkling while being unfolded. His eyes slid over the carefully placed letters on the paper. A glistening tear slid down down his powder-white cheek as a slight smile overcame his usual cowl. The letter got balled into his hand as he laughed a little. He dropped the letter onto the musty floor and renewed his position in his chair.
Thoughts raced through his head about his life. He thought about the times he spent with his family and if it was really worth him living or not. He didn't know why he was happy about the letter, or why it was sent to him without a person leaving it to him. He couldn't keep up with the pace of his thoughts. His mind wandered aimlessly and he didn't know whether or not laughing was appropriate. He stared at the crumpled ball on the floor. He wondered if smashing the paper was even right.