Escape

He stares at the wall for hours gone by, shoulders stooped, drawn inward ever so slightly, indicate his level of relaxation. Eyes dimmed by years of constant strain, try to focus on a small crack in plaster troweled in his youth. His right hand scratches senselessly the stubble of some days growth; while his left hand thumps a silent rhythm upon his arthritic knee. His smile fixed, drawn up, distorted, a permanent reminder of last summers stroke. His ears, hear not activity surrounding him, too proud to admit further disability, prefers the silence that further isolates him from undesired memory. He has no reason to speak, no one would hear, his beautiful Marie died last year. Alone, he suffers all of life's pain, his only escape, a small crack in plaster, troweled in his youth.