Four empties

     He hung up the phone and slowly walked to the fridge and got a beer. It was the third call today from the family that lived so many miles  away. Each had things to talk about, usually each other. Our bodies and minds grow old, and drama doesn't fit in anymore like it once  did or didn’t really matter. He sat down at the old table in the old Mobil home in the old folk’s park in old town USA. Sipping the beer and taking a drag from the sticks of tobacco he pondered those conversations and realized why he had chosen to be alone in a silent world in a silent way in silence. He always was a good listener listening more than he spoke which was a good thing as he didn’t want to respond to the not very important jibber jabber of siblings and friends who only called to see if he was still above ground? By mid-day, four empty beer bottles sat on the table. One for each conversation and one just because of the conversations. He put on a jacket and walked outside stopping long enough to zip up as the late afternoon was chilly, winter was  coming. He walked the three blocks to his favorite tavern and sat down on his favorite stool across from his favorite barmaid and smiled as she put a bottle of his favorite beer in front of him. Darkness came quickly as he left and slowly walked back the three blocks to his empty trailer with four empty beer bottles on the table. He shrugged his shoulders and reached into the fridge for another as he picked up the phone.

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