old man

his hair was sparse and silver, his face was lightly bronzed from his time in the garden. he was in his 90's but his skin and body looked like a man in his mid 40's. even when he walked he moved like an athlete and his resting posture was perfect. his mind was sharp, deep and entirely clear of any sorrows. he was a man at peace. years earlier he had lost his only son and soon after when the latina showed up on his doorstep about to give birth he never questioned her claim of the babies paternity- even though the child was born with deep chocolate brown skin. the old man took her in and the baby grew up in his house as his flesh and blood grandson, the actual genetics of the boy were incidental to the man. over time, he allowed two other women to take up residence in his large empty house. a well oiled rhythm ran through the days and started with shared morning coffee and breakfast. the house always smelled like warm, baked bread and hummed with community activity. all 5 always gathered for a pleasant and healthy dinner and shared the clean-up. all 5 retired to their rooms content and happy.

one day one of the women brought up the subject of the inevitability of the old mans death. she planted worry in the other two and suggested they secretly begin the legal process of taking ownership of the house to protect themselves. the other women agreed and plans were implemented. as the process advanced, motions were filed, papers were served and when the old man held them in his hands he felt such a sense of betrayal that he was filled with unfamiliar rage. as he learned more, it became apparent that his ability to stop the proceedings was nil because of their long-term residency and his advanced age.

the women fled the house (certain they would return as the new owners) as he began to destroy his belongings. the old man walked through the rooms of the once peaceful house and spilled a trail of fuel from an old red gas can. when he reached the front yard, he threw a lit match behind him. the old man did not blink or flinch when his house exploded behind him. the red-orange flames from the house turned him into a silhouette, but with every step he took, his rage dissipated.

the man was never seen again.