He

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Callused, scarred hands clutched the crook of his walking stick and sat on the edge of a planter on Swift Street filled with geraniums. Just outside Cat and Cloud Coffee. He was catching his breath and after a bit, he stood again and ambled south on 35th to East Cliff. Standing at the top of the cliff, he stared at the ocean and listened to the waves crash on the rocks below. He –

thought of Cara. He had been optimistic, and thought there may have been something there:
thought of his career at the post office. He had just been pensioned off…
thought of the tooth extraction, on which he had just made the final payment last month.
thought of his recent holiday to Orlando, trying to figure out – why?
thought about how easy it would be to take one step forward, meet with the cliff face, meet with the cold Pacific waters;
thought about eternal life and wondered if it was worth it!
Once again, he decided it wasn’t worth it,
he always did*

He turned and retraced his steps back home, pausing only once to catch his breath.

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