Ples adjusted his glasses. He had just hung up the phone. His blue eyes looked around the kitchen in what seemed like bewilderment.
It was difficult to see. Had been difficult to see. The past few days had a strange fog coming in from the corners of his peripheral vision. It had been a mild inconvenience at first, but now visual perception was challenging. Just yesterday, he had to pull out Speedy to check what time it was. He hadn’t done that in fifteen years; he used to simply know.
The incident with the phone was interesting. When it rang, he recognized that it should be picked up and the person on the other end of the line should be spoken to. It was another offer to buy his house, but Ples couldn’t quite refuse; mainly because he was finding it incredibly difficult to talk. His words came out slowly and hard “k” and “c” sounds had a distinct radio static sound to them. The realtor, in her frustration, hung up the phone first. That had never happened before.
Ordinarily, he might have felt, at least, a little bad but this time…he didn’t care. Ples got up, grabbed the nearest clock, and threw it on the tile, effectively smashing it into shards of glass and metal odds and ends.
Once again, he found he didn’t care.