His tears rolled down his weathered face, each a memory of times gone by. Salty to the taste he grew used to each day. Tiny drops, each a reminder of his yesterdays when life was full, and his heart overflowed, greeting every teardrop with names turned into salted memories.
He somehow reached the age he never thought he'd see, yet alone the memories that came to him so easily. His red eyes, red from salty tears, he sometimes kept closed to see the faces he lost along the way with clarity.
He didn't care what others thought of an old man crying or talking to nothing but air; they'd have to wait until their salty tears began to fall to understand completely. They thought he was crazy, dancing alone, holding on to someone only he could see—the one who shared his teardrops in every memory.
He had to stop the memories sometimes and wipe away his tears on her white, laced handkerchief, turned yellow, just another memory. His tears rolled down his weathered face, some trying harder than others to flow through the wrinkles of time, while others raced to the finish line too quickly for him to wipe away.
He didn't care what others thought of an old man crying or talking to nothing but air; they'd have to wait until their salty tears began to fall to understand completely. They thought he was crazy, dancing alone, holding on to someone only he could see—the one who shared his teardrops in every memory.
He had to stop the memories sometimes and wipe away his tears on her white, laced handkerchief, turned yellow, just another memory. His tears rolled down his weathered face, some trying harder than others to flow through the wrinkles of time, while others raced to the finish line too quickly for him to wipe away.
Mike 2026
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