He sits alone on his lunch, parked next to a beautiful green he won’t visit.
Once he would have dined with friends, lovers. Now these stolen moments are the best – and worst – of his day.
He catches a glimpse of his silvering hair in the mirror and doesn’t recognize himself.
Turning the key, he looks up from the console to briefly ponder the barren winter trees creaking proudly, eternally, in the frosty sunshine. The first sigh is an experiment. The second, a wish. The engine coughs. He pulls onto the road.
There is a little more loneliness in the world.