The knot in his shoulders persisted. It had started as stiffness in his low back but over the course of the week had moved up beneath his shoulder blades. He’d figured his morning stretching routine would provide relief, but it made no difference.
He stood in the yellow glow of the bathroom light and gazed into the mirror. He looked hard, trying to remember the last time nothing had hurt. He couldn’t
On Sunday, he’d shaved his beard. There were too many silver and gray hairs dancing in the light. What he was left with was a face lined by the passing of time. Now it was Saturday and light stubble had returned to his face. It was peppered with salt.
He stared hard at the reflection in the mirror; when had he become this old, shell of himself?
He tried to force a smile, but the lines around his eyes and mouth looked like cracked leather.
The eyes themselves had lost the bright blue that had captured the hearts of so many and were now a stormy gray. Jean often commented on the worlds they held.
He never knew just what she meant, but as he stared into the mirror, he could see the world-weariness. He wondered if this was why they had turned gray; the heaviness of the world he seemed to feel at all times?
He didn’t understand any of it. He was in the best shape of his life, felt better than he had in his 20s, more confident, more capable, yet still run down.
On some days he couldn’t help wondering when life had started passing him by.
Jean slid into the bathroom and wrapped her arms around his chest. Her soft hair tickled his back. She smiled at the reflection. All doubt melted away.
