Not too bad, young man, he said, making himself snigger.
Young? Well, that was something he used to be.
These days, even mature didn't quite stretch to where he'd reached.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head, still smiling at his reflection.
There was no point feeling sorry for himself about getting old.
There was nothing he could do about it, after all.
So what choice did he have other than to get up with the sun each morning and carry on? A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
He took one last look at his reflection, pointed a finger at himself and closed one eye.
You've still got it, Earl Edwards.
Still got it.
Another knock.
Won't be a minute, he called.
No rush, Mike replied from the other side.
Earl reached for his cane.
His fingers fumbled as he tried to wrap them around the handle and, before he could get a proper grip, it toppled to the floor.
He stared down at it.
There it lay, perfectly at ease on the carpet, waiting to be picked up, with no consideration of what a task that actually was.
Oh, for God's sake! Gripping the radiator with one hand, Earl slowly bent towards it.
He could have sworn he heard his body actually creak like an old rusty car as he stretched a little further, his knees protesting and his back threatening to give up altogether.
Finally, his fingers closed around the cane.
Got you.
Mike was waiting patiently outside when Earl eventually opened the door.
All okay, mate? he asked.
For a taxi driver, Mike had become more of a friend.
Not too bad, young man, he said, making himself snigger.
Young? Well, that was something he used to be.
These days, even mature didn't quite stretch to where he'd reached.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head, still smiling at his reflection.
There was no point feeling sorry for himself about getting old.
There was nothing he could do about it, after all.
So what choice did he have other than to get up with the sun each morning and carry on? A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
He took one last look at his reflection, pointed a finger at himself and closed one eye.
You've still got it, Earl Edwards.
Still got it.
Another knock.
Won't be a minute, he called.
No rush, Mike replied from the other side.
Earl reached for his cane.
His fingers fumbled as he tried to wrap them around the handle and, before he could get a proper grip, it toppled to the floor.
He stared down at it.
There it lay, perfectly at ease on the carpet, waiting to be picked up, with no consideration of what a task that actually was.
Oh, for God's sake! Gripping the radiator with one hand, Earl slowly bent towards it.
He could have sworn he heard his body actually creak like an old rusty car as he stretched a little further, his knees protesting and his back threatening to give up altogether.
Finally, his fingers closed around the cane.
Got you.
Mike was waiting patiently outside when Earl eventually opened the door.
All okay, mate? he asked.
For a taxi driver, Mike had become more of a friend.
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