Manny

Manny got up from the bowl and gave a sigh of relief. He flushed. It felt good to be rid of noxious gasses. Art down the row had no such luck and suffered accordingly. It was early; six a.m. by his watch. He dressed in his running outfit and sneakers, picked up his cane and went out to the hall. The staff was notoriously absent from being seen this time of day. Down the hall, each of the suites had a closed door. Some had numbers on them indicating the time they got breakfast or some nursing service. He had to walk to the center of the building to get out. The center dome was letting in a good amount of light. The comfortable chairs and couches were empty, no visitors yet. The eyes at the desk were sleepy and barely registered his presence. He waved the cane in their direction.

It was cool when he stepped out on the patio in the front of the building. A driveway ran up along the side of the patio where the infirm could get easily into and out of the transport. The driveway formed a U around, a tree -lined middle hedge out to the highway. Off the patio, a one- acre lawn stretched out with planned seats, trees, a picture- perfect idyllic setting. At the end of the drive was a sign that said, Long Life Living Facility. He would have added for the rich.

He walked the lawn past the row of suites he lived into the back of the buildings. Here on a high hill, you could look down on the woods below that gradually sloped into a marsh. It was a wildlife refuge. He placed his cane on a tree branch and began to trot down the hill. The path was used seldom and only by him and an occasionally lost jogger. He picked up the pace as he went, monitoring his breathing and watching his time. He ran intervals once he reached the wooden marsh path, pausing briefly between each one to record his time on his watch. In ninety minutes he was back up the hill panting and leaning heavily on his cane as he went into the front of the building.