The pancakes and apple butter, from his late dinner, still hung in his nose, as he added cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg to his warmed cider.   Carrying his drink to the old stuffed chair, that faced the piano, in the living room, he sat the drink down, on the wood chair, that served as desk, counter, and workbench most evenings – before migrating to bed.

Sitting in the chair, he placed his feet on the ottoman left by a lover who had overstayed her welcome, to the point of providing furnishings for the old house.  In his mind, his own complicity in the process had long since been forgotten.

As he reached for the cider, he felt and heard his back crackle – stiff from the days work.  The drink was just overly warm – which is to say just the right temperature to sip its slow cooling with care and pleasure.

The sound of his good collie dog licking her feet was accompanied only by the sound of the furnace kicking on and blowing air up through the vents.  She stood up and clicked away – stepping on the hard wood floor.  As she entered the kitchen, he heard the old gun dog growl a soft protest at the disturbance.  Everyone knew it was a symbolic act.  There was no real threat of violence.

Another sip of cider marked time.

His phone buzzed.  He read the text from a dear friend asking him to join for a drink.  He paused to consider the incongruity of the cell phone with all the other elements of his life.  The thought passed.  He responded that was very comfortable, but that they were welcome to join.

Yoga he thought.  Perhaps he would do yoga in a bit.  Stretch out and all.  He imagined the feeling of the slow stretching in his back and legs as he settled further into the chair.

The collie walked back in and whined softly.  He absently told her to hush, as he picked up the book he had begun.  Kurt Vonnegut.  He’d been meaning to read something by him for years.  The story opened well enough – giving early indications of a skepticism that promised to shed light (if not joy).

He read for a bit.  Took a final draft of cider.  Rolled his neck.  Stretched his shoulders back.  Slowly stood up.  And walked to bed.