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Forgotten At ninety four or maybe ninety five, he puts on his best bow tie and a starched shirt, now too big around the collar. His clear blue eyes dance in anticipation of this outing. The round clock on the home's wall clicks past the hour, then past the next. His withered frame fidgets and droops in the chair placed by the lobby window. Still with watering eyes he watches and waits ----------for his son to come ---------------------or maybe his grandson.-------- ---------------------- --- Judi Van Gorder Inspired by Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen
