The old man just smiled. It was a toothless smile on a lined and scared face. He sat in the corner of the room facing into the corner. Somewhere behind him a television was playing some game show rerun and muttered voices answered Sucre for the capital of Bolivia but he ignored it all, sitting, gently rocking and smiling.
The staff had asked him often what he was smiling about but never got an answer. His dementia was so well advanced that it was unlikely he had any cognisance of the question let alone any ability to craft an answer. He just smiled and rocked; and stared into the corner.
In his youth he had been a powerhouse, his face on the front of every magazine worthy of mention. His wealth had been staggering, his successes awe inspiring but now, in his 130th year, his money removed through years of blind trust shenanigans at the hands of unscrupulous relatives, he was completely forgotten about.
He smiled again. His deal had been straight forward, immortality and great wealth. He’d reasoned that there would be no call on his soul so what could he lose, no force majeure needed at all.
He smiled and rocked, “eternal youth”, that’s what he got wrong, it should have been eternal youth; this time he laughed.