Old O
HE DREAMED THOUGH HE never slept. Cloudy eyes stared at nothing, saw nothing. His massive form, once powerful with thick muscles, sat atrophied by lack of use. Nothing perked his attention anymore. Not even Trisha.
Trisha, wearing gray leggings under a short black skirt—an outfit too young for her middle age—sauntered into the lab scowling. She unlocked the door to her office, went inside and slammed it. Throwing her messenger bag into a corner, she slumped into the chair behind her desk and placed her face in her hands. Her black hair fell around her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths.
“He did it again, Cornelius,” she said aloud to the bird in a cage hanging from the ceiling. “He did it again. He does it every f*****g day.” She pushed herself back in her chair and looked up at
