He spent his time watching the Weather Channel. Brush fires out West. Tornadoes throughout the Midwest. Balmy temperatures in the South. And the East, a snow storm was brewing.

The old man looked out his window. Sunny skies. Patchy clouds. He could still see the moon. A full moon. The winds were starting to pick up. He could hear it wrestling the trees.

This was his morning ritual; coffee and weather. It was just what he had done for the past fifty years.

It was him and his wife for the longest time. They never talked. Just held hands on the couch and watched the weather. She’d look at him and smile no matter how bad the weather was. He’d smile back.

Now she was gone. It was just him and the television. It wasn’t the same. He looked out the window.

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