The old man placed his fork on the table next to his finished meal and turned his head to the television next to him. “I’ve owned this house for over forty years.” he said after a drawn out silence. “Second house I ever lived in with my wife.”

“It really must’ve been different around here back then. Huh?”

“Oh, everything was different back then.” he replied, suddenly with a vigor to his words.

His guest chuckled, “Is that so?”

“I lived in the golden years of this country. You kids aren’t going to have it as good as we did.”, a pause, “Sorry.” he began to laugh.

“How do you mean?”

“Well now there’s too many people, and there’s global warmin’, and there’s not even gonna be enough oil soon.”
“I suppose you’re right but think of all the things we have today that weren’t around eighty years ago. I live in a new age of technology. How about that?”

The old man considered what his companion had said for a moment without looking away from his television.

“But this was a much stronger country when I was younger. Now we’re gonna get taken over by the Chinese.” he replied humorously. His guest said nothing but did return a smile. “When I was your age, I could make a good living just by installing air conditioners. I lived comfortably with my wife for over sixty years, retired early, owned my own house before I was forty, all as a laborer. Nowadays…” his voice trailed off. His eyes remained on the television, but his mind was elsewhere.

“I guess things are a bit more competitive now. More people standing in line…” added his guest.

The silence between them continued until the old man got out of his seat and shuffled to the kitchen. The room in which his guest was seated was heavily decorated. A collection of lighters spread across a mantle and desk like colorful line of dominos, each one unique and set up in an intricate design ready to tumble at any moment. Signs on the walls boldly named brands of cars and beer. Old photos stood in their frames amongst a collection of books. A lifetime of decoration. The guest’s eyes wandered from one object to the next. A moment later, the old man returned with two cold sodas in his hand. He placed one on the table, then sat and opened the second.

He spoke, “Do you know what you want to do yet?”

“Excuse me?” His guest was now looking at him inquisitively.

“In life, do you know what you want to do in life?”

“No.” admitted his guest “Not yet.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t either at your age.”

“But you found out?”

“Well, I married my wife soon after I graduated high school and followed my father into the air conditioning business. Pretty soon, life just found me.”

“And you were happy?” asked his guest, who was becoming increasingly drawn into the conversation.
“Oh sure. By the time I started my own business, my wife and I were able to get a nice place of our own. This one.”

His guest glanced around the room again. “So, if given the chance, you wouldn’t have done anything differently?” he asked.

“Well, I was offered a gig as a singer once. I’ve always wondered about that. But who knows?” He suddenly looked deeper in thought.

“Do you ever wish that you’d had kids?”

The old man paused. “No, my wife and I were happy with just each other.” he spoke. His guest nodded. The pause continued.

“Do you miss your wife?” asked the guest after a contemplative moment of silence.

“Every day.” was all the old man said.

The silence resumed for a few moments longer before his guest asked, “So if you don’t mind me asking, what happens next?”

With very little hesitation the old man replied, “I have a sister. She doesn’t live far from here. Everything I have will go to her.”

“And the house?”

“It’ll be sold. She needs the money.”

While the old man turned his attention again to

the muted television, flashing images and saying nothing.  The guest again looked around the room he was sitting in but instead of fascination, he felt a sense of sorrow. The entire unique creation was at its end. Soon, it’s lifetime of meaning would end; to be sold for whatever someone would pay for it. The timeworn house would undoubtedly be demolished for a bigger one in its place. In each small decoration around the room he saw an inevitable end. Including the ornate grandfather clock that just at that moment began to chime. Its solemn bell rang eleven times.

“Well, I need to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah…” replied the old man abruptly, as if disturbed from a trance. “Thanks for bringing dinner tonight.”
His guest left and walked to the street. He paused. Almost everything was dark except for just a few lights along the yards lining the street. It was quiet and empty. He thought about only the dark, empty street with new clarity for a little while longer before he pulled the trash cans in from the curb. Then he began to walk up the street, wondering how different his life could have been under other circumstances and how one day his life might be an obscure story lost with time.