The paper from the old notebook, crinkled and worn, blew over one after another like the old man shuffling his deck of cards.
A deck of cars shuffles in the old man's hand like the crinkled paper from an old notebook.
The old man's wrinkled hands once held the pen that gave the crinkled paper in the old notebook its charm.
The old notebook's charm slowly fading as the crinkled paper yellows.
The yellowing paper blows in the wind of the wrinkly old man's creaking fan.
The creaking fan blows the shuffling deck of cards from the old man's wrinkled hands onto the dusty and worn floor.
The wrinkled old man's hands skitter across the floor picking up the yellowed cards one by one as the pages of the old notebook stop turning.
The old man's wrinkled hands grasps the old notebook filled with wrinkled and worn pages and reads across an old but familiar page.
An old familiar page about his old familiar wife brought tears to his eyes.
The tears brought to his eyes by the yellowing crinkled and worn pages inspired his old wrinkled hands to turn yet another page in that old yet familiar notebook.