Entry Four

The man walking toward Ted looked old. His fatigue showed through his tired, constantly blinking eyes and the forward lean of his neck and shoulders. The wind had blown his necktie back over his shoulder and he looked like he was tugging against a leash. At least that was the assessment through Ted’s eyes. He was always shocked to find out that people he assumed were five to ten years older than him were actually his age, some born within the same month and year. Why did they all look so worn out? Or did they? Ted had made a conscious decision several years earlier to avoid introspective trips to his reflection. The mirror was not his friend. He had perfected the ability to shave and see nothing but a jaw and tiny hairs. From his viewpoint the person looking back could be anyone and that’s why it didn’t bother him when, over time, the reflected skin slowly became slack and the stubble grew white. Ted’s hair was so thin that he kept it cropped short which reduced the task of “combing” into a slide of his hand over his scalp. He assumed as long as he never saw anything to alter his perception, his mental picture of his image was exactly what everyone else saw. He was confident that he portrayed energy, vitality and vigilance. Like a walking Viagra tablet in easy to swallow caplet form.

[Yikes! Two entries that reference Viagra. I write. You decide.]

All words and images ©2005/J. Colle