Theodosia

Standing has grown difficult.

Walking out from behind the counter even more so.

I do a final sweep.

I walk outside.

The sun stands to be my only comfort.

The setting orange and yellow are the brightness to my day.

The cicadas and birds no nothing of what goes on around them.

I suppose this invokes some joy.

I breathe in the smell of fifty years.

Gasoline has plagued my lungs to a point of utter affection.

I lock the doors and sit upon the step.

No customers today either.

Opportunity has been the rise and fall of my wealth.

I built this town only for it to cut me down.

The people I raised have become my Brutus.

My sorrow begins to bleed through my eyes.

Once you hit a certain age you become expendable.

I am no longer a human being to these people.

I am no longer worthy of their breathe.

Now I am but a number.

I leave the keys on the porch.

I stand and take one more glance at my life.

It was all I had left.

I walk.