He rose, as the rain pattered against the
smoked glass of his home.
Yawning loudly, legs stretching,
he climbed from bed.

A curious silence had descended.
Only the chatter from the tv reminded him
that life went on.
As it always does.

His mind turned to the walk he had
promised himself.
A walk to clear his clogging lungs,
his ever chattering mind.

He followed the main road towards
the heath, noting the mushrooms
growing here and there.
As they always do.

He noted the birdsong as he walked upon the heath itself.
No one around.
No dog walkers, no homeless.
Even the rain had stopped.

He followed the path towards
the incline. Ground rising gently.
His usual route.
Nothing ever changes.

He reached the hillock,
swinging around and gazing back
towards the homes, the road,
towards the bustle of life.

He yawned again, turning slowly and
heading towards the line of bushes,
curious now.
Something lay there.

A form softened by the
overnight rain.
A form that looked human,
familiar.

He approached slowly,
cautiously, fearfully.
Gazing down at the elderly corpse
dressed in that familiar coat.

He squinted, reeling back in shock.
This body was his own.
Dead and silent as corpses
always are.

He whirled around, the view
fading as he woke once more.
Yawning loudly.
Just another day.