Today, I turned 97. No cards in the mail. No phone ringing. Just another quiet morning in the little room I rent above an old hardware shop that’s been closed for years. The landlord lets me stay cheap since I fixed his busted pipes last winter. The place is simple—bed, kettle, one window looking out at the street. That window’s my favorite part. I sit there and watch buses pass like time itself. I walked down the block to the bakery. The girl behind the counter smiled polite… See more

July 1, 2025 - by ly - Leave a Comment

I BOUGHT MYSELF A BIRTHDAY CAKE BUT NO ONE CAME

woke up to silence—no candles, no cards, no calls. I live above an old hardware store in a small room with a bed, a kettle, and a chair by the window. That window is my favorite. I watch buses go by. At the bakery, the girl didn’t recognize me, though I come every week. I told her it was my birthday. She smiled politely. I bought a small vanilla cake with strawberries and had them write “Happy 97th, Mr. L.” on it.