A Fathers Twist for Love
A Fathers Twist For Love The old man sinks his teeth into the bloody stake. His jaw moves slowly as age has taken to this old mans body. He sits alone as his somber face looks to an empty seat. His hair slicked back, his glasses sitting snug upon his face. He wears a black tie and a black suit. Appearing as if from a funeral. As I sit from my table I watch with a strange feeling of sadness. I know nothing of this old man, but he sits alone, challenging himself with each motion. His frail body postures in a slump as I assume his bones are not longer a concern of his. As he sits chewing his steak he places down his fork and reaches into his suit pocket. From it he pulls out a rose, with a stem no longer that of a finger. On the other end of the table sits an empty glass and other dining amenities. He carefully stands up and starts to walk, doing his best not to strain himself. Each step is merely inches, his hand reaches out with the ros...