Article 041. He lays comfortably on the couch. His hair-- salt-and-pepper, thinning and a bit ragged. Glasses on and wearing a hoodie on top of his pajamas. He was all business scoping the television despite the cold seeping inside his skin. His fight with the elements is becoming prominent. Stairs or anything inclined or steep that requires motion, whether going up or down, becomes a nemesis. The world around him has slowly and steadily getting muted. It's just a matter of time before everything to him becomes silent. She's in the kitchen. The cabinetry is blocking the view below eye-level so she is not visible from where I'm standing. But you can tell she is wiping away on the floor with the sound of friction between a damp cloth and solid wood. She makes it as spotless as can be. She is sturdy despite the years and undoubtedly young-looking for her age. I think some Amazonian spell took over her and she will probably live another decade. I came from the narrow hall from ...