Short stories

The old man

Huge gray clouds veiled the sky, making a threatening atmosphere. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It still didn't rain, but it was only a matter of time. The wind had risen. Trees swayed enormously. No lightning in the sky, but it was only a matter of time before the storm broke. The old man sighed deeply, deposing the porcelain cup on the saucer. The tea was still very hot. He was unable to drink it without burning himself. He thought a moment to add some milk to cool it, but rejected the idea. Milk gave him heartburn. He would have to wait.

He put his trembling hands on the knob of his cane. He leaned back more comfortably to watch the show by the bay window. He loved to watch the storm through the huge window of the cafeteria of the residence. Even if he hated this place since his arrival, he loved this short time. He could enjoy it more than when this happened overnight. He never slept very well. He suspected that his conscience was perhaps not so quiet that he wanted to believe. He slowly shrugged. It didn't matter now. He remembered what he had done and he regretted nothing. He had a well-filled life. His only regret was not being able to do what he loved doing the most: photography. For the rest, it was just a bonus. He was unable to get back his youth. He had only his many memories.

Thunder rumbled louder now. It reminded him of the first quarrel he had with his late wife. The scene she had made! He had bitterly made her regret this "misbehavior". He had grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her violently to make her see reason. She eventually shut up when he had begun to threaten to strike her. He would have preferred not to have to. But she had to understand. He was unable to tolerate this kind of behavior from her. It was the only time he had to teach her good manners. He remembered that day. He didn't hate her. But he couldn't bear her acts that way. He wanted to do what he wanted when he wanted. And that was exactly what he had done during all these years. His wife had never stood up to him during the years that followed. He refused to have children. It didn't interest him. By cons, he allowed her to have a dog. If it would occupy her... and it compensated for the many evenings spent alone.

All women with whom he had been sleeping...! There were too many to count them!

Lost in many memories, he barely heard the shuffling pace heading towards the window. He caught from the corner of his eye an old man approaching the window. He walked very slowly, which explained the cane with which he was moving. He had a faint smile on his lips. Outside, it still wasn't raining. The old man brought back the cup to his lips. The liquid was still warm, but he gently blew on it.

"A very nice view," the newcomer said. "Great show..."

The old man was silent. He was far from being sociable. He spoke to no one since his arrival in the residence. He had his share of social events and discussions going nowhere. Now he enjoyed the silence. He wasn't here to make new friends. He sighed deeply, trying another sip. He hoped that this guy get the message very quickly and he disappears. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't the case. The man wanted to engage in conversation. Probably because he wanted access to the lookup table for the show. He wasn't the first to do so.

"You found the perfect table."

And out of the question that you stay with me. He wasn't going to invite him to join him. He blew again on his tea.

"You're very lucky."

Thunder answered for him. It's not luck to know where to sit. He ventured a sip, hoping not to burn. The newcomer turned slowly towards him, a huge smile on the lips.

"But I think you already know."

He still hasn't gotten the message. However it's very clear that I don't intend to have a discussion with him. The storm suddenly climbed in intensity, with a superb view that unfortunately he couldn't enjoy. The stranger began to seriously get on his nerves. Yet it was obvious he didn't want to discuss. He must surely be the only one not realizing it.