It’s been many a year since my son called. Hell, it’s been too long since my phone rang at all. No one seems to care for the elderly once their own independence begins. So, once again I find myself alone in this house without a soul to share a cup of tea with or talk about the affairs of the day. Again I find myself sitting by the phone, silently eating an apple, waiting for a caring soul to check in on me to at least ensure that death has not yet wrapped his hands around my neck and choked the life out of me. Why do I bother? My son is just an ungrateful philanderer, my eldest daughter a vacuous nonentity; the only person who bothers to check in is my youngest daughter, Eve, and she has been away in Europe for months now. I’ve tried calling them, the undeserving children, but they always insist that they are busy with work or something of that sort. I’m done. I feel no reason to care for them anymore, except for Eve. Always was a smart one, she was. I’m proud that she’s doing great things in Europe. I think I’ll amend my will to leave her everything. Yeah, I’ll do that now. After that, I suppose the best way to go would be by car exhaust. It’s not like anyone will find me for a while anyway.
Well, that is it. Those are all the short stories I wrote for my psych class. Assess them if you wish, tell me what you think, etc.
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