Remembering That Which Was Forgotten
He’d forgotten what it was to cry. Through both wars and all that life had thrown at him in between like snowballs packed around jagged chunks of broken pavement, he hadn’t once shed a tear. Life and its ambitions had become mere existence, subtle and unavoidable and now a matter of tolerance. You wondered if he would mind in the slightest if he found out that tomorrow he would have a heart attack or be struck down by a passing car. Yet, as she held his hand and smiled, not unlike she had countless times before, he wept without consolation.