Fifty Years From Now

Had a day off from the hospital today. Studying heart failure and arrhythmias sent me into a stupor, so I scribbled out this story to cheer myself up! Hope you enjoy, and I’d be honoured if you left your thoughts.

Fifty Years From Now

Fifty years from now, I am an old woman with ugly feet. It is the future and I have collected an extensive display of wrinkles and an extensive array of stories. I have become that which once perplexed me: the elderly. Still they sit, with their gummy mouths and powdery cheeks, in their white rows, in nursing homes and hospitals, their eyes glazed over with the memories of a dimming life. My eyes, my dimming life.

Yet I can’t really say I feel sad. It’s not quite the right word for it. I feel a little bit tired, as you do when you have taken a long and very slow walk through an enormous museum, and you have passed all the interesting displays, and now you just want to sit down in the cafeteria and enjoy a cup of coffee.

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