June 12, 2014 by Sez
He wished they didn’t think he was sweet, hated the way they crooned as he tottered around the room: this vacuous cooing was not the approbation he craved. He grew older, cultivated a swagger and a smirk.
He went from angelic to mischievous to loutish to supercilious before realizing that he could be nice without eliciting these patronizing clucks.
Time passed. Hair thinned, bones shrank, his swagger stalled like a wreck of a Rolls Royce
Now they cluck, sigh, croon and coo as he totters about, unsteady and toothless and bald.
He doesn’t fight it today, though: he works it.