Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies.
----- The old man awakens his bones sore from the cheap mattress he had slept on the night before. Groaning, he sits up, and surveys the room.
None of this is as he pictured it so many years ago, when he was still young. He had dreamed of adventure, of horses and cattle- of Santa Fe.
Now he lives in a small room above the bookstore he ran until several years back until he grew too old and tired to sell in the stuffy store all day. A friend of his runs it for him now, although soon he, too, will grow too old and too tired.
Something inside the old man stirs- the familiar desire to leave him home and travel to Santa Fe. He slowly rises from his bed, and shuffled over to the small closet and pulled out a suitcase. His arthritic hands opened the latches holding the suitcase shut, and then packed odd objects into it. He latches the suitcase shut again, then dresses and pulls on his boots. He rubs his hands to relieve them of the pain, then picks up the suitcase and walks to the door.
He stops as he reaches for the doorknob. Chuckling to himself he turns around, and puts the suitcase back on the bed. His wrinkled hands unpack it, and then he places it back in the closet. Sighing, he takes off his boots, and lays back down on his bed.
Santa Fe was a dream for the young. And Santa Fe was a dream the young could turn into reality.
He wasn't young anymore.
He shifted on the bed, made himself comfortable, closed his eyes, and then he slept.
--- *pat Bumlets!muse*
Good boy. Look! He works! *huggles Bumlets!Muse*
----- The old man awakens his bones sore from the cheap mattress he had slept on the night before. Groaning, he sits up, and surveys the room.
None of this is as he pictured it so many years ago, when he was still young. He had dreamed of adventure, of horses and cattle- of Santa Fe.
Now he lives in a small room above the bookstore he ran until several years back until he grew too old and tired to sell in the stuffy store all day. A friend of his runs it for him now, although soon he, too, will grow too old and too tired.
Something inside the old man stirs- the familiar desire to leave him home and travel to Santa Fe. He slowly rises from his bed, and shuffled over to the small closet and pulled out a suitcase. His arthritic hands opened the latches holding the suitcase shut, and then packed odd objects into it. He latches the suitcase shut again, then dresses and pulls on his boots. He rubs his hands to relieve them of the pain, then picks up the suitcase and walks to the door.
He stops as he reaches for the doorknob. Chuckling to himself he turns around, and puts the suitcase back on the bed. His wrinkled hands unpack it, and then he places it back in the closet. Sighing, he takes off his boots, and lays back down on his bed.
Santa Fe was a dream for the young. And Santa Fe was a dream the young could turn into reality.
He wasn't young anymore.
He shifted on the bed, made himself comfortable, closed his eyes, and then he slept.
--- *pat Bumlets!muse*
Good boy. Look! He works! *huggles Bumlets!Muse*