The fan overhead is dusty. Hasn’t been cleaned in years. There is mold in the refrigerator. No food. Just black mold. The recliner is torn. Ashes in the fireplace. A Bible atop the mantle.

Coffee is on the stove. The kind cowboys used to make. Grounds between his brown teeth; some chipped and broken. He drinks and says, good.

A breeze comes in through the window. He stands there and lets the wind hit his wrinkled face. It is a warm breeze on a spring day. Easter will be here soon. Christ rose from the dead. A stone removed.

The old man remembers this story from his childhood. He smiles. Cups his hands together and gives thanks. Prays for forgiveness, though no sins have been committed. Crosses himself and says, Amen.

The meek shall inherit the earth.