Wither With You

Words by JMD. Image by Gemini - curated by JMD

Elden strutted outside for his morning walk. It is a Saturday. With hair that long turned white, notwithstanding those which had escaped his head entirely, he patted down the last bit of sunblock onto his face - a face demarcated by lines like the rings of trees, counting out his seven decades. The New Balance shoes showing a fealty to buying American, Elden started down the street. Happy neighbors, recognizing his excursion, greeted him as he passed by at his typical rate - somewhere between a walk and the thought of jogging.

“Good morning Mr. Withering”, said the new mother, watching her dog finish up in the yard.

“Happy Saturday, Mr. Withering”, as he passed by the father/son duo washing down their ‘67 Chevy.

Down the tree lined street he shuffled. In his youth he’d already have been 4 more blocks down the road.

“Blessed day to you, Mr. Withering!”
“Good to see you, Mr. Withering!”

Young children playing in their yards. The construction crew putting up that house for the last month. A father pushing a stroller across the road. The mail person already a few hours into their day. Every single person, as he went down the blocks, happily and enthusiastically saying hello.

“Mr. Withering, get it boy!”
“Looking good, Mr. Withering.”
“Slow down or we’ll need to put some flames on the sides of those shoes, Mr. Withering.”

A few more blocks down the road, Elden paused. He looked up the way he had come, at all the people he passed, then glanced at the backs of his hands for a moment. A singular thought entered his mind…“I fucking hate my name.”