Because of the cuts


He shuffles across the room to the window. It begins to rain. Droplets spatter the pane in front of his face. He gazes at his reflection and can see his grandfather in it.The same eyes sunk deep in a face etched with wrinkles.The same gaunt face. How quickly time passes!.

He runs his fingertips over his wife's photograph. A single tear rolls down his face, hot and acid. He wipes it away. She died from a heart attack.The doctors sais that she could have survived if the emergency service hadn't been withdrawn. A little town, you know, because of the cuts...they said. He can feel a resentment growing within him. Anger.

He has been feeling under the weather for weeks and now this terrible pain. He knows what it means. He  saw his father die from it, and his grandfather before him. He unfolds a paper. An appointment with an specialist. 28 May 12:00. In eleven month's time!. The GP was really sorry and embarrased. A good man. Because of the cuts, they say. He crumples the paper into a ball and throws it away.

He is ready to kick the bucket. He hasn't been able to get used to living without her.He feels worn out, old and utterly alone. Death doesn't seem such a dreadful thing, does it?. He has to live on a meagre pension  -because  of the cuts- and he doesn't have any savings. He is poor. He knows he will be buried in a mass grave. Never mind. He smiles wearily remembering his mother saying that every cloud has a silver lining. She was quite  right. At least, he won't be alone anymore.


© Plataforma creada por Alfonso Hinojosa - Profesor de Ingl├ęs de la E.O.I. de Santander