Less And Less

Kyle sat on his kitchen table, the smell of fresh coffee in his nose, a newspaper in his hand. Ever since he retired a few years ago, his life was pretty dull. But Kyle didn't mind. Not really, at least. He still knew how it had felt not knowing if he'd survive the day back in world war II. Boredom was something he was gonna take for safety. The letters on the paper were tiny. He asked himself if they had always been that way. It was the first time in his life he had time to think about trivial things like that.

The clock on the wall was ticking. Kyle wondered if it was a metaphor. The cup of coffee in his hand was empty now. But he felt less energetic than before. Less energetic than he's ever felt. With tired eyes, he read the last sentences of the article. As he threw the newspaper in the trash can, he had no idea what it had been about. Back at the table, his eyes caught his tablet. He could check his mails, he thought. Maybe someone from his old work had texted him, asked him how he was doing. He didn't really believe that could be true, but it was nice to imagine for a moment. So he reached for the tablet, opened his browser and wanted to log in to the mail program. But as he pressed enter, the side didn't change. There were red letters under the password compartment now, though. Kyle leaned in closer to read them, even though he could obviously guess what they would say. “Wrong password.” So Kyle tried again. It wasn't a big deal. Everyone inserted their password wrong from time to time. So he tried again, but the red letters didn't disappear. Another time. Wrong password. Kyle frowned. This was weird. He tried a few more times, then the letters said “Please reset your password.” He sighed. If he couldn't even remember one password, how was he supposed to remember his new one, too? In the end he went for Roosevelt, the president. It was 2012. He had voted for Obama himself three years ago, but that moment he didn't remember. Roosevelt had been president during the war, and to Kyle he still was.

The next week, Kyle went for a walk. While he watched the leaves falling off the trees, he thought about war. But it wasn't like flashbacks. It wasn't scary. Actually, as he looked back at those days, not everything he felt was really bad. As bizarre as he knew that sounded, he actually felt some sort of safety when thinking about war, too. At least back then, he had known what he was doing. He had his orders, and it was his job to fulfill them. And no matter how hard those orders might have been, the pattern behind them was simple. Later, he took that pattern with him to his job as a broker. Different orders, but the same principle. But now, he didn't know what to do. No one told him any longer. Or not really. His daughter Nancy had told him to go outside more, so that was what he did. When he got back home, there was a dirty plate on the table. With brown sauce, looking like it was coming from some sort of meat. Kyle didn't remember cooking earlier on that day. But he wasn't hungry, so the empty plate was probably his. There were two glasses of water on the table, too. One of them had a red lip print on it. Had Nancy been there earlier? Kyle didn't know. He looked up, and the clock above his table went on ticking.

A few months after that, Kyle wanted to make eggs for breakfast. So he went inside the kitchen, opening his fridge. Besides a glass of pickles, there was nothing inside. So he went outside, shopping for food. The way to the supermarket was easy to find. He had been going there for twenty years now. He bought fruit, ham, canned soup. He didn't buy any eggs. On his way back home, everything looked different. Even though he knew it was the same way, he didn't recognize the shops anymore. He didn't know where to go. It scared him. As he didn't know what to do, he called his daughter and asked her to pick him up. He had a tear in his eye when she arrived in her red coat, a thousand different bags in her hands. She told him it wasn't a problem, but Kyle knew that actually it was. He could see how stressed she was. He still understood that much.

Nancy had told Kyle to go and see a doctor. He was there now, sitting on a chair in a room he had never been in before. At least he thought so. The man sitting across from him had been his doctor for fifteen years, but to Kyle he was a stranger. A stranger who told him that he might consider moving to a retirement home. Kyle didn't understand why. He could still walk perfectly, even went for a run from time to time. His body worked just well. So why shouldn't he be able to keep living by himself?

Another night, Kyle watched a movie and drank a beer. He didn't know what it was about, but he enjoyed it. There were beautiful young ladies and handsome young men on the screen, and he liked watching and pretending to be part of them. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. So Kyle stood up and walked to the door. As he opened it, a strange lady in a red coat stood in front of him. “How can I help you?”, he asked her in a friendly tone. He didn't understand why the woman started crying. “Should I call someone?”, he asked. The woman shook her had. “Do you want to come inside and make a call yourself?” She nodded. So he stepped aside and let her walk inside his appartment.

He washed his hands, then he walked back into the kitchen. “Hey Nancy, what are you doing here?” he called as he spotted his daughter there, happy to see her. “I just came by to check on you”, she sad. Her voice was whiny. “Check on me?”, he asked her. “Why?” Nancy started to cry again.

“I can't do this anymore, Dad”, she said. Kyle had no idea what she meant. “I spoke with Dr. Lee today”, she said. We both agree that moving to a retirement home is your only option.” Kyle didn't know who Dr. Lee was, and he had no idea what she was talking about. But she was crying, so he knew that whatever was going on, it was serious. And so when she told him that she had made an appointment for the two of them on the next day, he agreed going with her even though he still had no idea why that would be necessary.

When his alarm clock rang on the next day and Kyle walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, the clock that had been hanging on his wall before was now lying on the floor, the glass shattered in a million pieces.