I did my laundry this evening and when I went to put my wash in the tumble dryer I saw him.
An old man somewhere in his seventies I guess. Sitting there, waiting, bent forward, elbows resting on his thighs. And he looks so damned sad.
In some way he reminds me of my father; maybe the glasses or the receding hair, I have no idea.
Why is he sad? Is he alone? Is he thinking about his late spouse? His youth? Confronted with the simple fact he has no future anymore, not at that age anyway.
Maybe he has another story, something amazing but I didn’t care to ask.
I left and went home to my own stories.
Had a beer.
Then I realized…