ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ?

Claude With a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Claude stared out the window as snowflakes fell outside, while people from the small town of Cooke City walked happily with their families. The children seemed excited, swinging bags that probably held dinner they’d share together, or maybe gifts. They looked so carefree, as if this night was the best of the entire year.

He brought the cup to his lips, feeling the sweet taste of the hot chocolate linger on his tongue. It was the only sweet thing left in his disastrous, empty life: His wife had passed away twelve years ago, his son Daxter hated him with all his heart, and Claude had stopped speaking to his own parents over forty years ago. By now, Geuegfe had probably written him off as an old, grumpy man who should have died a long time ago.

How pitiful. Even having a top position at a furniture company didn’t seem enough. His bank account grew every month because he never traveled, hardly bought anything for the house. What would be left when he died? Maybe he should talk to his lawyer sometime and change his will, leaving all his money to people without families who really needed it.

“Serves me right for being an idiot,” he muttered to himself in a low, gravelly tone. His beard got slightly stained with the chocolate, but he didn’t care much at that moment. “I guess I’ll go to bed early this year too, like every year…”

That had become his routine since being left alone: Watching happy, united families through the window, having dinner alone by the fireplace with the sound of a vinyl record playing, and going to bed before midnight. He had no one to celebrate the holidays with, and his neighbors would be enjoying them elsewhere, visiting their grown children.

When the family from the street left, Claude sighed and drew the curtain to cover the window. Then, with a bored sway of his body, he made his way to the small kitchen with rustic furniture to fill another cup of chocolate, this time with little square marshmallows.

“I don’t even know why I still bother decorating this place, no one visits me,” he muttered, turning his back to the kitchen and looking at the living room decorated with holiday trinkets. There weren’t many, but it didn’t look too empty. “Well, tomorrow’s Saturday, so I guess I’ll entertain myself putting it all away.”

With sluggish steps, he made his way to his old couch, but a knock on the door forced him to stop and turn his head, furrowing his brow. Who the hell would visit me today?

“Fuck it…” he grumbled softly, and his feet led him to the front door. He could hear the sound of the wind, and likely the snow building up outside through the night.

As his large hand opened the door to see who was on the other side, the cup of chocolate almost slipped from his other hand. He froze as if he had seen a ghost.

Geuegfe... The thought of their name made him soften the hard expression on his face for a brief moment, but he quickly returned to his usual indifferent demeanor. He didn’t want to appear as some pathetic, spineless old man.

“Are you going to come in or did you come here to talk shit like your father did for years?” he asked, though Claude didn’t want to be completely rude, but he wasn’t sure how to act in a moment like this.

Fifteen years. That was how long it had been since Claude last saw Geuegfe in person, though his wife, when she was alive, used to sneak him pictures so at least he could see they were happy children.