A foggy morning

Visibility was at most a quarter mile when I took my morning walk today, and the water lapping against the breakwater seemed condensed out of the gray mist.

An old, withered man in a motorized wheelchair sat alone where the seawall meets Foster Beach, staring out into the emptiness. I stood observing him for a while; and all the while he remained motionless.

I thought, someday, that could be me. But then, someday, that could be anybody.