After a long sleepless night of exhaustive pain, the old man drags his breathless lifeless stiff corpse out of a frozen sunken bed of jagged thorny shards of steel and glass, unable to yet see as the classical music plays he drags himself off to prepare his coffee, as his hands shake and tremble he pours in the water and counts the scoops of grind, fumbling he manages to plug in the percolator, as the coffee begins to perc he shuffles off to the toilet, where his bowels bellow out in a hungerous rage, in the mirror an exhausted face blankly stares off into the abyss, his hair and beard disheveled he attempts to brush them out but his hands fail to grasp the brush, stumbling back to his bed he struggles to pull on his socks pants and boots, he pours a cup of coffee and gently packs scraps of tobacco into his pipe, he stumbles out the door, the sun is making its way up on a chilly damp morning, as the world begins to rise not a soul cares for the enduring hell the old man must face yet another day;
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