The old man limped across the room. His blond hair was white, but his blue eyes were undimmed by age. A strong, gnarled hand held onto the dark cane. He bent and kissed the white-haired lady sitting in an easy chair. Defiant wisps of curls that had escaped the expensive, sprayed upswept hairdo framed her face. Her clothes were as expensive as the hairdo, the plush seating chairs, and deep hued desk. Money could not cure the edema swollen leg resting on the ottoman or the unexpected racing heart. At least the smoke from outside fires had not risen to the tenth floor and the air coming in the open window was breathable, almost refreshing.
“Hello, Viola, I pray your Pathway eases.”
Viola"s grey eyes seemed to turn into ice.
“Don"t be ridiculous, David. This will only get worse. My doctor h
