At the Nursing Home
At the Nursing Home A turtle of a man-- brown, leathery skin, wrinkled neck, bald head, tiny eyes-- and a mouth like a beak (because he had forgotten to put his dentures in that morning) traveled down the hallway. His teeth were still sitting on the nightstand by his bed. Not much snap left in them anymore anyway. From inside the hard shell of his wheelchair, he pulled himself slowly down the long white tiled floor with just his shuffling feet in scuffed leather slippers. His hands held the elbows of his arms pulled up tight against his stomach as if he were holding something to his chest that he didn't want to share. He crept along the white hallway the way a snapping turtle can sometimes be seen crawling down a road. Neither knowing his destination. No one else knowing either. Although, he moved by inches, time was flying quickly by him like a bird in the air above him. It swooped just by his head so close that he felt the breeze from its wings on his ears. He raised his head tr...