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James sits quietly in his usual deep red coloured armchair in the sitting room of the Nursing Home. The TV is blaring, and some American comedy is playing, but Jim doesn't really see it, or even hear it. He just sits in his corner, seemingly not doing anything, but really he is quietly watching the world go by; secretly aware of everything. He spends most of his days doing this, as there isn't much else he can do anymore. Not since his knees became so weak and the arthritis in his hands took over.

At a couple of minutes past eleven that morning, the doors to the sitting room waft open, and Amanda Lynch, the granddaughter of eighty-nine year old Gladys, sashays into the room like a breathe of fresh air. Following sullenly is her own daughter, Gladys' great-granddaughter Britney. Jim doesn't know where young people get their names from these days, but they appear to be getting worse. Jim smiles at the sweet little girl with her gentle brown curls that fall around her soft-features. She looks at him all innocent and unknowing, before sticking a pink tongue out at him.

Amanda reminds Jim of his daughter Emily when she was much younger, and Britney of his granddaughter Eloise, another silly modern name James always thought. Emily would be in her mid seventies now, and Eloise, in her forties. Jim thinks that Eloise attended University; she was always a bright girl, and he wouldn't be surprised if Eloise now had a husband and family of her own. Jim doesn't know this for certain, as he has not seen his family in years. Not since they banged him up in this mad house when his wife Miriam passed away. Not one of them ever thinks to come and visit him, too self-absorbed int heir own lives; couldn't get rid of me quick enough, Jim thinks to himself and grumbles under his breathe.

A cool breeze whistles through Jim's entire body, and he glances out of the double French doors on the other side of the sitting room. It is a beautiful summer's morning, the kind that Jim remembers from many years agohow long ago, he can't quite remember. The years have faded away into a blur that they now seem more like mere days. He rubs his head, trying to remember when it was, but doesn't force it, as he knows the headaches seem far worse when he does.

Jim watches as young Britney helps Gladys out into the garden, and he imagines running around the garden with his own great grandchildren. He can see them so clearly that he feels like he could touch them if he could just reach out far enough.

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